


Nocturne

by choimiah



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Interracial Relationship, Original Fiction, Realistic, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 06:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7834768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choimiah/pseuds/choimiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Comfort, forgiveness, self-acceptance, and love are all relative. If someone told Tahj Young that she'd learn the secrets to existence and how to re-live and re-love, she'd wonder what they were smoking.  Then Nathaniel Im happens, and a series of other events that lead to her future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I've been working on this story for over a year now. It started out as a 2jae fanfic I posted on AFF under the same title. After sitting on it for some time I started to see its real potential and began editing it. It's far from perfect, but it definitely means so much to me. I included everything that I always wanted to see in mainstream fiction but have yet to see in great numbers: an honest, complex poc protagonist and other main characters (yes, all poc mains so if that makes you uncomfortable for some reason kindly find something else to read), a main cast with relatable back-stories and other such very real struggles such as anxiety and struggling to be accepted by peers. I promise you this story will not be something extravagant with crazy plot happenings. Our female main, Tahj, is very much a recluse. She likes to eat ramen, play video games, and paint. Nothing will explode. But, I hope that after reading something will click that never has before. Something will make sense that never did. I hope you feel that it was important. 
> 
> Thank you for giving this story a chance, and please leave comments. I love constructive criticism and other advice.

What's the scariest thing on earth?


	2. I

Trumpets crowd Tahj's bedroom in noise; the breakdown spills over her organs like the fire they were born to be, and smother her in ice as the end rolls around eventually. She's too relaxed to put anything else on as she lies on her window-mattress nook. One leg is digging into the wood of the wall opposite to the one her head is lolling back on and the other is dangling over the edge. Silence spills out of the speaker so consistently that Tahj is on the verge of falling asleep. Her eyes are already drooping and she can taste sleep as vividly as the pills she's supposed to be taking but isn't. They have a similar flavor. Chalky and stagnant; the tang sits on her tongue and refuses to go away.

The taste is still lingering in the recesses of her conscious when Tahj comes to hours later. Moonlight paints her bedroom a sketchy shade of dark shadows and sinister angles that all merge into a blotch of indecipherable grey beyond the tip of her nose. She contemplates actually getting in bed, but fears stepping on something important, or slipping on her mess of a floor in the dark, so she snuggles right where she is; her eyes close, though, she has trouble finding sleep.

 

Tahj can't dread the coming morning more than she already does. Being home-schooled is bad enough without the ridicule of strangers who think she's some asocial freak. The tutors her dad hires are always middle aged women with pinched faces and more commentary on how she should live her life than her academics. It isn't too bad when they dissolve into the kitchen to clank glasses and talk her dad's ear off, which the old man probably doesn't mind too terribly, but she'd rather complete online courses at her own pace. Her dad was understanding enough after giving up his dream of having a superstar midfielder for as a daughter, but he gets frustrated sometimes, seeing Tahj locked up in her bedroom.

Having a Classical Music major as a son probably wasn't on his agenda, either, seeing as he's shoved a bat in Bennett's hands ever since he was old enough to toddle.

As much as Tahj feels for his mourning of the perfect offspring she wishes her dad would hide his disappointment a little better.

After a night of fitful sleep Tahj rises at around six. The comforts of her nook are all too inviting. She could sink back into the pillows and nod off. Oddly enough, nights are a restless period for Tahj. But, the morning is when she actually can sleep a little, off and on, when she doesn't have tutoring scheduled. Although despite the enticement, she drags herself off the mattress and into the hallway. The winter draft is freezing all of her extremities, and the heater is off. The toasty lick of warmth she usually looks forward to is absent. She's cold, tired, and almost as if it was planned, she feels the pang of hunger twist her stomach into a knot and a growl follows immediately after.

"T," her dad's voice echoes from somewhere below her, the kitchen, probably, judging from the sound of silverware on a cutting board. Tahj is barely awake, exhausted from not sleeping, but her feet instinctively carry her down the hall. She cracks an eye open so she doesn't break her neck on the stairs and by the time she reaches the bottom both of her eyes are open and she's shivering.

"Hungry?" Her dad emerges from the kitchen wearing a blue apron that has '#1 pops' written on the chest in green lettering. His smooth, tanned face is smiling, lines crinkled around his lips and beside his eyes.

"Yeah," Tahj says, scratching his shoulder mindlessly.

"How do eggs and pancakes sound?" He waves a serrated spoon.

"Sounds cool, dad. I can make it, though." Tahj approaches, only to be stopped when her dad raises his empty hand.

"Shower."

"You have work soon," Tahj combats.

"And you have school." The tone of her dad's voice causes something hot to leap inside of Tahj's chest, and quiver. His bright eyes and coy smile that are begging 'please be normal' shatters every defiant bone in Tahj's body.

"Okay," with that one word, the tension in her dad's shoulders squeeze from the wound joints and he visibly relaxes, even spares Tahj's insufferably messy, possibly matted, raven curls a gentle ruffle, and then he's off into the kitchen.

"Put on something decent. You have tutoring," her dad shouts, bodiless, once Tahj is in the shower. One of the many disadvantages of having a bathroom on the first floor is there is zero privacy. When Tahj has to relieve herself she's stuck with her dad asking her questions about her bowel movements as they're happening, and other weird, embarrassing things she won't readily answer. Another thing is that her dad never forgets to remind Tahj to take her meds on his way out to work. Tahj rarely takes them because she hates the loopy feeling. Every step she takes on them is labored and rigid, like she's walking in quicksand and gradually sinking, while her head stays above, just to remind her that she's painfully conscious, and not, at the same time.

She's depressing enough all by her lonesome. Medication to induce the same effect is useless, and troublesome.

The water eventually runs cold and Tahj chooses this moment to wrap herself in a fluffy towel. She jogs back upstairs, disregarding the droplets soaking the hardwood, and applies lotion at a slow pace. Eight a.m. rolls around soon enough, and Tahj, realizing this with a heavy sigh, finishes dressing and goes back downstairs to lounge on the couch until the doorbell rings.

"Why?" Tahj groans into the crook of her elbow, rubbing her face afterward and stretching with a loud yawn. She drops the remote on her way up and answers the door.

The first sensation that blasts her directly in her unprotected face is the biting winter gust, and the second is the young man standing on the other side of the door. To say he's handsome would be an overstatement seeing as most of his face, besides his eyes and nose, is hidden beneath the shadow of his coat's hood and suffocating in the brown scarf wrapped around his head. Though, there's an aura that leaks into the surrounding space and intrudes so heavily into the room that Tahj stumbles over her words. The feeling is an overwhelming one that freezes her brain cells momentarily. They finally thaw out when a guttural sound sparks through Tahj and she steps back, coming to her senses a little.

"Who are you?"

"Nathaniel," the young man answers as if that's all that needs to be said.

"Excuse me, who?" Tahj asks.

"Nathaniel Im," the young man repeats, voice slightly muffled by the scarf. "Your tutor."

Tahj steps back, genuinely baffled. She does a once over of the young man. Albeit incredibly rude, Tahj can't help herself. There seemed to be an agenda her father followed when it came to choosing tutors. They were usually female, in their early to mid-forties and obviously had a pungent distaste for teenagers despite their chosen field of work but had no problem with hanging around Tahj's dad. Tahj has no preference whether or not her dad dates. She drowns in her room with jars of paint and used easels and cracking brushes; her dad's relationship with women is the least of Tahj's worries. But, she's more than shocked, slightly curious even, at her dad's choice this time around.

"Can I come in?" Nathaniel's voice is the catalyst for Tahj stepping aside for him to come in and close the door. The young man toes out of his boots and lingers by the door while stripping out of his coat.

"The closet is the door beside the stairs." Tahj moves further out of the way as the man nods and walks over. As he removes his outerwear, layer by layer, Tahj becomes increasingly curious by the handsome and built man that appears. His broad back, crescent moon biceps and wide chest noticeably stretch the black, textured turtleneck he's wearing; indigo jeans hug his firm thighs and a silver chain jingles from his left pocket, linked into a belt loop. He turns, and Tahj loses her breath. Not only from the slim, attractive eyes that find hers in the snow-lit room, but from the familiar tightening of her throat that makes her legs wobble, chucking her into the sea without so much as a spare tire to cling onto.

"Did you want to start with anything in particular?" Nathaniel takes a seat at the glass dining room table and slings a shoulder bag Tahj had been too distracted to notice before on top of it. She spends a few seconds processing the words and even more time conjuring an answer.

"Not really. Let me grab my backpack." Tahj looks back every now and then as she's fleeing up the stairs and discerns with an appropriate amount of dread that Nathaniel is gorgeous. As soon as Tahj reaches her bedroom she shuts the door and dives onto the bed, groping frantically for her phone in a flurry of excitement and terror. She quickly shoots a text to Izziah before gathering herself and going back downstairs with her backpack gripped in one hand, phone swathed in the pocket of her grey sweats.

By the time Tahj is seated at Nathaniel's side, him at the head and Tahj at the corner, the nerves come slithering around Tahj's ankles, twisting and winding up to clutch her knees. The underside of her thighs are sweating from the close proximity, but she can't move farther now or else Nathaniel might see her as being rude. It's just hard to concentrate on much of what he is saying when her mind is overcome with the heat crackling in her ears. She presses one hand to the lump of her pants and hopes that Izziah isn't paying attention in class (when is she ever?).

"Do you think you can do this?" Nathaniel passes her the open booklet. Tahj nods and accepts the pen. Tahj has no clue what aspect of the problem he was explaining, but she already knows how to do it. Her fingers pinch the ridges of the pen harder than necessary and by the time she's finished, dark blue splotches bleed over the i's far too often for Tahj to pass it off as a slip of the wrist. She just hopes Nathaniel isn't nearly as perceptive as he looks with his sharp eyes, inquirious and deceptively gentle.

"Good job." Nathaniel leans further into Tahj's space, minty breath and musky cologne purging her nervous system and lighting her veins on fire. "Keep going if you can."

Tahj's hands clam up under the pressure. The pen threatens to slip from her grasp every time she loosens it slightly. Nathaniel isn't helping even when he probably thinks he is, pointing out Tahj's miscalculations and giving her tips on how to cut her work in half (what she could really use is some space between their arms). Tahj suddenly misses the old, flirtatious women as Nathaniel is oblivious to the tremors rumbling throughout Tahj's entire body, resulting in an even tension rendering her limbs useless as they tremble and Tahj is actually panicking now because she's sure that her discomfort is visible by this point, what if-

"I have to use the bathroom." Tahj stands without warning, grunts at the sound of her kneecap scraping the edge of the table before the pain even hits, and then apologizes needlessly as she stumbles to the bathroom. She shuts the door and releases the breath that's been caught in her ribs for the past few minutes, head finally clearing. Tahj's thigh vibrates two seconds too late. She nearly rips her phone out to check the message.

Don't do that thing where you pinch your face like you're going to cry from holding your breath and relax. -Izz, 8:40am

Tahj swipes her finger over the call button and sits on the toilet lid. The phone rings three or four times before going to voicemail and Tahj buries it back in her sweats, pressing her fingers into her knees through the fabric. Her heart is knocking against her skull, blood hot and fast between her ears as she thinks about going back out there, sitting really close to Nathaniel and suffocating herself with thick cologne in place of highly concentrated floral scents.

Tahj loses herself in thought for some time. Schemes on how to get out of tutoring today run through her mind. She could fake a stomach ache, but that would only warrant her dad to make an industrial size pot of his watery porridge and scalding ginseng tea.

...relax.

Tahj nods, takes a deep breath, and walks out. The room is compressed with tension when she sits down. She is deeply uncomfortable with the stare Nathaniel is fixing her, dark brown eyes analytical with a slight squint and lips thin.

"Are you alright?" Nathaniel asks.

"Fine." Tahj answers unnecessarily fast, embarrassment heating her face. "I'm perfectly fine."

Nathaniel's smooth chuckle doesn't help the abashment Tahj feels at her inability to function normally at the moment.

"I tend to be rigid." Nathaniel grins nervously. "It's easier that way. Sorry if I'm making you feel weird or something."

"You aren't," Tahj replies softly, and clears her throat, speaking louder then. "I'm usually, uhm...-"

"Strange?" Nathaniel offers.

"You could say." Tahj nods, lips curving upward slightly and head bowing as another round of warmth irritates her cheeks.

"So am I," Nathaniel confesses, a little noise slipping from his lips that sounds like a sigh and a laugh mixed together, fraught. "Even my friends think I'm a little off. There's a method to fitting in with people that I learned to manipulate a while ago. They're all the same, unless they're not, ya' know?"

No, Tahj doesn't know. She has no idea what he's talking about. Tahj and people (read: general public, because Izziah is not a real person, she's an alien) are like lava and grass, two completely separate beings with no reason to cross paths.

Izziah is not people; she understands that when Tahj crawls into herself and refuses to come up for air she isn't mad at the world. Just tired of it. And more than a little scared. The thought of fast-moving cars, and horns honking, and expensive men with loud shoes, and wide open spaces churns bile that singes the back of her throat.

Nathaniel may not be people either.

Tahj pounds away at assignment after assignment. Her fingers are cramping by the time one p.m. hits and she's only half an exam away from sweet freedom. She's numb to the presence near her. Her concentration has returned, somewhat, and she can proudly say that she probably won't fail any classes this term. Tahj vaguely ponders the reason for her dad switching tutors in the middle of the school year. Her quota for the year is nearly met. She can take a break in a few weeks. Tahj has never complained about her tutors, rebuked their sour demeanors in her head, sure, but never aloud for fear of sounding like a brat and bringing her dad more trouble than he needs. There is no plausible reason she can come up with, so she gives up.

"We're done for today."

Tahj nods and closes her laptop. She sits quiet while Nathaniel collects his belongings. She becomes distracted by the man's long, thin fingers and blunt nails that clasp around whatever he's grabbing. Pale blue veins strain against his alabaster complexion, creating a dangerous contrast within itself. His adam's apple bobs right above the collar of his turtleneck. Tahj squirms, not entirely pleased with how she's staring, hard, and yet, she can't really help herself.

"You're really bright," Nathaniel praises casually as he's still organizing his things, hands busy and eyes inside of his bag. "I could help you with college stuff if you want."

The word 'college' combusts in the pit of Tahj's gut.

She is a senior. It's not a preposterous thing to be saying. It's just a terrifying thing is all. Her future has always been an abstract project in the making. Whenever Tahj feels like she needs to fill the blank space with something she starts to second guess herself. College is scary. The future is scary. Growing up is scary. What if she doesn't get to fulfill her dream?

What is her dream?

"Unexpected things happen."

Tahj nods hollowly at the words. She is aware that unexpected things happen. Her life is a series of 'unexpected things'.

"Tomorrow then." Nathaniel smiles pleasantly, walking over to the closet.

Tahj nods in farewell, a little awkward. "Tomorrow."

Tahj watches as Nathaniel walks from the closet to the door. He pauses to offer her a small smile and a salute that doesn't fail to make her heart stutter uncomfortably. Tahj doesn't bar the laugh that bubbles out of her and even raises her hand to wave. She probably looks like a three year-old. The warmth that sprouts in the base of her throat and spirals upward to reach her quirking lips is welcome despite her earlier apprehensions.

Nathaniel leaves just as quickly as he'd come.

Tahj notes the wiggle of one of the man's legs; it's not nearly prominent enough to compare with a lumber. But, it's there, and it makes Tahj more curious than she expects to be. Both of the man's arms and one leg, the left one, work in smooth unision. Though, his right leg is oddly stagnant in movement like the other limbs are trying to move it with them but it doesn't want to go. Of course all of this is so minor that Tahj wonders if her eyes are tricking her even through all of her observations.

* * *

"He was handsome," Tahj says mindlessly as she dips some brushes into water with a possessed meticulousness. The once soapy water looks filthy now. A tingling sensation rattles her cold skin. She forgets to burrow beneath the covers of her window seat, obvlious to the chill seeping in through the splinters in the wood.

"But, you don't like people." Izziah puts on a devious grin. "To be safe is to mate within one's respective species."

"Then elope with a fellow nutcase and raise monkeys in your Buddhist temple, dipthong," Tahj snaps, the cloud lifting from around her ears and reality dawning on her, piece by piece.

"If I didn't practice pacifism I'd whoop you for that."

"Pacifism my butt." Tahj scoffs. "You socked me a few days ago for making fun of your dumb hat."

"There are certain exceptions for disrespect of holy attire."

"Are there also exceptions for being fake spiritual?"

"You," Izziah sighs with her forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of her nose, "are spoiling my mantra energy."

"I've never once seen you actually meditate because, no, napping doesn't count."

"Whatever." Izziah props her chin in one palm, rolling on her stomach on Tahj's bed. "Tell me about this Casanova."

"He's my tutor," Tahj says, straight-faced at first, then her nose scrunches at the acidic fumes wafting from the bit of cleaning solution spilled on her thumb. She wipes it off on her sweats even though the bottle says it's toxic.

"Wrong," Izziah breathes dramatically. "He's your savior. You turn into a potato around everyone else. You actually talked to this guy."

"That's normal, though," Tahj says, frustrated. She isn't doing anything special. It's just that Tahj's normal is abnormal in a real world context. Praising her for not having an anxiety induced panic attack in a low-stress social situation is like praising a fish for swimming, something they do by nature, or at least by imitation. Considering Tahj has never met any average standard it's redundant to say she's strange, and so all of this irrelevant.

"You're not normal," Izziah says.

"Wow, thanks, Izz." Tahj deadpans.

"You know what I mean."

"I do," Tahj bites out.

After a minute of silent consideration Tahj opens her mouth.

"He's not all that different than from what I've seen," Tahj begins pensively, hands wiggling in her pockets. "I...can't really place him. He seems nice enough, social enough. Average. But, there has to be something different about him. And he does this thing when he walks that might be nothing. I don't think it's nothing, though. He makes me nervous and it isn't the average stuff. I didn't even want him to leave, but now I'm really scared that he'll come back before I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" Izziah prods.

"Ready to function like normal. Like all of the other girls he's probably hung out with."

"You just have to practice, T, and believe in yourself."

"Bullshit, Izz."


	3. II

Sleep never comes easy for Tahj. Contrary to the perpetuation of dreams as peace bearers and an escape from daily struggles, Tahj's dreams are a canvas of her terrors; loneliness and disillusion stretch far beyond her realm of consciousness. Skyscrapers concave around her huddled form, a hunk of quivering flesh on the concrete. Her screams are separate from her own body. She can hear them, yet her throat is barren, motionless.

The morning is darker than usual. Dark grey clouds flock the winter sky and promise a possible reprieve from the snow. Tahj hates the thought of them.

Her schedule consists of drowning in a nest of blankets on her bed, sending an aggravating text to Izziah for her having to go to school on this very cold, very dark Thursday morning, and maybe eating something should she venture beyond her bedroom. Something that hardly seems likely.

No tutoring means no people and Tahj is more relaxed than she's been in a while. If Izziah were here she'd quote some Confucius stuff and half-encourage half-force Tahj to at least go to the store. They've been out of ramen for a while, and as much as Tahj practically lives on msg when her dad is on one of his insufferable diets and refuses to prepare anything with half a taste, Tahj won't go. It's been a few weeks since she's gone farther than her front lawn to fetch the mail. That in no way beats her record of months at a time, but the time weighs more heavily on her as she gets older.

A ten year-old knew nothing of the repercussions isolation brought. Scooby Doo gummies and several stacks of video games she'd yet to beat marked the years of her childhood; the passing of time was trivial in her quest to become the best warrior in the land, or avenger in her realm.

Seventeen is much different from ten.

One thing that turns this strange morning into an even stranger one is that her dad's ceremonial shout is missing, the heat is still off and there are no sounds. Tahj walks down to the kitchen, barefoot and frozen toed. Her dad is sitting at the island with a small notebook cracked in front of him. His uncharacteristic silence doesn't fail to set her on edge.

"You busy?" Tahj goes to claim an empty stool.

"Huh?" Her dad looks up at her, brown eyes cloudy and creases from worry denting his wide forehead. "Oh, yeah, a bit. Hey, babygirl. There's something kind of serious that...that I've gotta tell you."

"Shoot, dad."

"I'm going on a business trip for a while."

"Okay."

"Longer than usual."

"...Okay."

"The company lost some money during a recent venture and salaries were cut, temporarily, if we can correct the mistake and make up for the losses. That's gonna take a while, though. One month at the minimum, possibly much longer." Her dad sighs. "My friend's son, Nathaniel, offered to help out. He goes to a local college and has a pretty flexible schedule."

Realization dawns on Tahj. This is her dad's way of dropping a bomb without a bang.

"He'll be staying here while I'm gone."

If Tahj had previously thought she could deal with intrusions a few times a week by her new tutor then this revelation obliterates everything she felt prior to a minute ago. Focusing her attention on whatever subject and training her anxiety to hold its breath under the surface of Tahj's skin for two or three extremely uncomfortable hours is doable---on most days. But, round-the-clock surveillance by some stranger lurking around her home is going to be...a challenge. Tahj can't see how she'll accomplish it. Her first instinct is to throw a tantrum and cling onto her dad's legs so he won't go.

But, seventeen is very different from ten.

"When are you leaving?"

"Later today. I have to take some money out of the bank to pay Nathaniel in advance and go grocery shopping first." Her dad places a dark, veiny hand on top of Tahj's smaller, lighter one. "You're gonna be okay, promise. If that Nathaniel character tries to get fresh just grab the rifle in my closet. Make it look like an accident."

Tahj laughs and nods.

"Nathaniel should be here later tonight."

Tahj nods again.

Her dad leaves later in the day, at around six p.m., and Tahj is left to sulk in the living room. She had gone through a short period of intense aggravation for her dad actually thinking that Tahj needs a babysitter, as grown as a seventeen year-old girl is.

It passed.

It's pitch black now and colder than ever with the heat on low instead of the usual medium to high setting. Now she's just an anxious mess, watching the minutes tick by in tense silence. Izziah had offered to come over, but Tahj insistently refused. The last thing she needs is for Izziah to spread her weird gospel and freak Nathaniel out. She has no time to ponder whether it was a bad move on her part because knocks erupt in the silence and Tahj is on her feet before the last one falls. She tries to look like she won't pass out when she opens the door.

For some reason, the Nathaniel Tahj had conjured in her mind when she needed something to dread isn't the same Nathaniel that is standing before her now. This Nathaniel is grinning, rosy-cheeked from the cold and shivering, but still nice.

"I thought I was gonna freeze just getting to the door." Nathaniel laughs and Tahj's head explodes in relief. She steps out of Nathaniel's way as the man steps inside, kicking off his boots unceremoniously. He walks over to the closet; the man's cologne smacks Tahj in the face as he passes. She closes the door. She's still on edge, but the terror that surrounded this momentous encounter in her mind pales in comparison to the reality. Tahj sometimes considers taking her meds to calm her bustling nerves, but she always decides against it. She'd rather be drowning in all of her hypothetical theories than drugged up.

In the time it takes for Tahj to close the door, collect her senses and turn around, Nathaniel has already found his way into the kitchen. Tahj wants to follow him. The awkward that settles in wake of her fear's departure really is worse. As expected by herself, and probably every psychologist her dad ever took her to, Tahj flees to her room. She flips the switch to her overhead light and takes to sketching compositions on her bed.

Her phone buzzes somewhere near her pillow. Vibrations run along the covers and tickle her side as she's in the process of actually getting somewhere. Her lazy swing to knock it closer just ends in disaster as she feels metal knick her toe and hears a thump after. She scoots to the edge of the bed and leans over the side as she checks the message waiting impatiently in her inbox.

I'll never forgive you. How good does Casanova look?

-Izz, 9.09pm

His name is Nathaniel.

-You, 9.14pm

You're dodging the question.

-Izz, 9.20pm

What question?

-You, 9.24pm

Without fail, her phone rings. Tahj answers it with a grunt as she scales the side of her bed to get properly on it, head pumping from the excess blood.

"Why are you so difficult? Just explain to me in detail how boy-boy is so different. We're best friends, we must share romantic fantasies. That has to be in a rule book somewhere." Izziah blabbers as soon as Tahj has the phone up to her ear.

"Aren't nuns banned from dating or something?" Tahj asks.

"I'm not a nun." She sounds like Tahj just slapped her grandma, deeply offended. "Just a believer. And I'll live vicariously through whomever I please, so..."

"So what?"

"So start yapping, chica. We've got all night."

"Tomorrow is Friday. You have school," Tahj reminds her.

"What's school?"

"Jeez."

Her bedroom door, that was already cracked, creaks open further about ten minutes later. She shields the page she's working on instinctively and sets Izziah down on her bed. Her nose tips her off on the situation before her eyes do.

Actual porridge smells delicious. Her dad might want to take notes.

"In case you were hungry." Nathaniel walks over to place the steaming bowl and spoon on Tahj's desk in the corner, shuffling some of her brushes and empty jars in the process.

"Thanks," Tahj says.

"Yeah, no probs, bob." Nathaniel lingers in the middle of Tahj's floor, eyes curious and roaming everywhere. Tahj doesn't realize how "eccentric" her choice of decor is until she's got someone staring all around her packed walls and seeing them for what they truly are, out of the ordinary. When Tahj doesn't completely hate something she's painted, she clips it to a twine wire strung against her walls with tape. Pieces of the ugly grey space are splattered in vibrant attempts of reviving the dull color, but, as the splotches can attest to, her determination works in spurts of energy before dying as her attention span withers to boredom.

Nathaniel is standing next to the sadly empty easel in the middle of the floor, wooden legs swimming amongst carpet stains and half full jars of paint, some newer than others.

"You like to paint," Nathaniel says, lips quirking for a reason Tahj is intensely curious about.

"It's a hobby." Tahj nods, unfolding her legs and scooting to the edge of her bed.

"Cool." Nathaniel nods.

"It's just dumb. I can't even finish anything." Tahj stands.

"It's not dumb." Nathaniel walks over to the open door, stops just to say, "Don't sleep on an empty stomach", and then he closes the door completely on his way out. Tahj sits back on her bed, her head is spinning with curiosity. The heady rush that coats her senses in intrigue and confusion is more than uncomfortable.

***

Lightning reflects in the dilated blackness of Tahj's pupils. Her room is dark, the same as it had been that night. She shivers violently at the thunder that whips across the sky immediately afterward. Her nails are digging dark crescents into her cold skin and she presses her back against the wood more. She had grown too restless in her bed, so she crawled into her window nook to count the stars like her dad taught her when she couldn't sleep.

Grey clouds from the morning have swelled to plump, black sacks of liquid destruction. It caught her by surprise. The soft patter she could've dealt with; but, when it began dropping like stones and splashing against her window in messy stripes, the transfixation warped her into a sad bubble that the sharpest knife couldn't pop.

Now, she's stuck in it. Her body is in a strange paralysis; she should be able to pull herself away from the window, but she won't. The crackling silver illuminates the indigo sky before a boom vibrates the sill.

Tahj is sick to her stomach.

Something warm and solid invades her bubble. It takes a couple sturdy shakes of her entire body before Tahj is back in her dark room again. She squints at the face inches from her. Lightning helps her place the warmth and she is drawn into the man's arms.

"Are you okay?" Nathaniel slides his hand onto the small of Tahj's back. She melts into the sweet touch. She can only feel how hard she is trembling when his tremoring back is against Nathaniel's still hand. The contrast is startling.

"I'm f-fine," Tahj stutters, voice dry and unstable.

"You're not." Nathaniel gently tugs her to his her and sits down, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. Tahj is incredibly self-conscious at the turn of events. She's small and soft against Nathaniel's solid body. The musky aroma is replaced by some generic soap, which works just fine for Tahj. She doesn't need another factor to scatter her common sense more than it already is.

The comforting pressure of Nathaniel massaging lines down Tahj's arm, occasionally switching to patting, briefly, before taking a break and then starting back up again maybe spans twenty minutes. She forgets to flinch. What will be left behind in the morning is worth because she couldn't breathe before. Now she can.

Tahj has no time to ponder how intimate this is for two people who've been acquainted for two days, possibly even inappropriate, because Nathaniel's strong hands soothe the shivers right out of the younger's shoulders; she can breathe now without sniffling.

"I won't ask you to tell me what this is about," Nathaniel whispers right next to Tahj's ear, sending sparks down her neck from how loud and clear the man's voice is in the sheer darkness of her bedroom. "Are you okay now?"

Tahj gathers the courage to nod. It might be a lie. She's not entirely sure. All she can tell for sure is that her toes are no longer cold and curled. Her pulse is even again. She can think somewhat clearly. She should be okay for the night if her nightmares can block out the thundering storm outside.

"Hungry?"

Tahj shakes her head.

"Do you want me to stay?"

Tahj has the strangest urge to say 'yes'. But Nathaniel must want to sleep. She can hardly see his face in the dark. Although, if his raspy voice is anything to go by, then he's very tired. Tahj bites down the selfish whim and shakes her head.

"You should get some sleep," she says.

"I can if you want. I know what night terrors feel like and they're not fun."

Nathaniel pauses. He may be waiting for Tahj because she has gone silent. Then, as if he can peer straight through Tahj's skull and extract her thoughts, he says, "You wouldn't be bothering me. I wish I had someone to hold two years ago. I'm okay with it, really."

Tahj can't turn down what sounds like begging now. She'd be lying if she said she isn't tempted in the slightest. Nathaniel is warm, her bed is cold, and that's really all it takes for her to lean into him. Nathaniel wraps one hand around her waist from behind and allows Tahj to burrow her halo of dark, thick curls into the crook of his neck, the crown nestled beneath his chin.

"We can stay like this for a while." Nathaniel locks his grip once she is settled. It's not overbearing or uncomfortable, just comforting. Tahj closes her eyes as sleep is unlocking her joints and filling her stomach with the warmth of cherry oak burning on an open hearth. Tahj should be concerned over how indecent all of this is. She's cuddling (because, really, what other word is there?) with someone she's been acquainted with for less than two days. As much as her head is telling her that she should stop, her chest is telling her that she likes the extra body heat, although foreign, it's very welcome.

Tahj realizes after a minute of blinking and staring into space, eyes lazily catching dust motes sparkling in the dawn sunshine, that she fell asleep. Her nose is squashed in her pillow. She turns her head over to face the heavy intrusion of shine. From fear that she'll start drooling soon with her mouth hung open, she lifts her head. The mess of her room looks innocent enough compared to the battlefield she imagined last night. The round, cylindrical things on her carpet aren't bombs, but paint jars. The spots of dark red aren't blood, but stains where she spilled kool-aid that she never tried to get out. No corpse is going to come falling out of her closet.

Tahj tenses a little when she notices the body cramped in her window nook shift a little. So he hadn't left. She doesn't allow the glee popping irrationally in her stomach to go to her head, even if it does so anyway. The man looks so peaceful, his sharp eyebrows, which Tahj can see so well due to his slanted angle, are tucked snugly beneath his dark fringe and his eyelids are still, calm. The only sign of movement are from his slightly parted lips, little snores slipping out that Tahj is disturbed to find more endearing than unattractive.

She is so distracted by Nathaniel's slim, dark pink lips that she notices when the snoring stops, but not when dark brown eyes lock onto her forehead. Her own slide up after a few seconds of stark realization and abashed regret for having stared so long before. Her gaze finds Nathaniel's, clicking right into place at his gentle smile.

Nerves wriggle back into Tahj a split second after Nathaniel has mumbled his morning greetings.

"I...have to pee," Tahj blubbers like the eloquent sucker she is and climbs out of bed. She almost cries when her haste causes her to stumble some. The coughs that sound like muffled laughs behind doesn't help her regain her balance any. Her bare feet pad down the freezing wooden steps and she bursts into the bathroom just before the cold sweats sprout on the surface of her buzzing forearms.

Tahj takes a long, painful look in the mirror at herself. Her hair is angry as usual. Maybe it's the immensely bright light spilling in from the window off to the side, but her skin is glowing. Good. Her cheeks are dusted over in ruby, which she can just barely pick out from her brown skin.

She tries to fluff her hair but it just hangs stiff, kinky and disobedient, like always.

There's an incredibly attractive man in her house, who may or may not be in her room at the moment, and she's here looking like Night of the Living Dead with her atrocious hair and face. Nathaniel doesn't make her want to hop out of a three-story window. He doesn't give her that look that means he's judging her from head to toe. He's nice enough, cute enough. He's warm.

Tahj is not only inept at life in general, she's also grossly unlucky as well.

She decides to kill two birds with one stone; she prolongs showing her face and takes a shower as well. The hot water runs over her skin. Her eyes close as she tucks her head under the shower and massages shampoo all the way down to the knotted roots, raking her fingers through the hair. After a quick shower and some basic grooming Tahj feels human again. Her complexion is spotted, something that won't change quickly, but her breath is minty and her hair is freshly washed.

She wrangles the thickness into two french braids that just brush her shoulders on both sides, and they're kinda super damp, which doesn't mix well with the draft. She might catch a cold but she'll smell like tropical paradise while doing it, so we all know who the real winner is.

Fridays are usually a joy.

Tahj's dad gets off work early and they watch creature movies, his favorite, in the living room until either or both knock out on the couch. Friday feels different now that her dad is gone and Nathaniel, instead, is banging pots in the kitchen. She wouldn't mind preparing her own meals; one of these days she really will try to make Nathaniel something. Not for necessity purposes, of course, because Nathaniel's porridge had been amazing and Tahj is sure anything he makes will turn out great. Still, half of her feels like she's taking advantage of him, and the other half is becoming uncomfortable with this increasing familiarity. Nathaniel seems to be secure in his level of intimacy, but Tahj is so unnerved by it that she can't bring herself to go into the kitchen.

Tahj would have rather Nathaniel think of her as a strange kid with strange tendencies. The fact that he'd caught a glimpse into a part of Tahj that she herself can barely understand is terrifying. She feels bare, exposed, and in front of a man that she should have nothing to do with beside living arrangements for a month or two and some tutoring.

"Are you alright?"

Tahj looks up from the smudge in the wood that her focus had violated so relentlessly a moment ago. Nathaniel is standing in the kitchen's threshold with a spatula stained with what looks like eggs. Tahj's eyes trace the prominent vein in the man's arm up to his face, his concerned, brown eyes that evoke panic in Tahj for unknown reason. Nathaniel might be asking two questions, one which Tahj will answer more readily than the other. But, when Nathaniel's free hand gestures clearly to the grip Tahj has on her basketball shorts, one of the questions disintegrates in her mind and she forces a nervous laugh.

"Fine." Tahj nods without meeting his eyes.

"Are you hungry?" Nathaniel asks.

Tahj is prepared to say no and disappear to her room when her stomach growls like the traitor it always is.

"I made eggs and toast," Nathaniel says, the soft skin around his mouth crinkling in pleasantry and eyes conveying the same hopeful sentiment. "You know, you're welcome to..."

"Thanks," Tahj says in slight defeat and hopes her face isn't as forlorn as her voice sounds. There really isn't anything wrong with Nathaniel cooking a meal. But, for some reason, it feels like more intimate than she's used to; Tahj and her dad had been switching off house duties for the past ten years. Nathaniel's welcome smile and kind eyes parallel so closely with her dad that Tahj can't help the nostalgia that clenches her heart. She loosens some of the tension in her shoulders and nods again, this time with a small smile that Nathaniel will hopefully appreciate.

They eat in mostly silence. Nathaniel will respond to Tahj's clank with one of his own and shift in his stool occasionally. The eggs are just eggs, but they taste so different from her dad's that Tahj has found one thing to look forward to. As long as Nathaniel is here, she won't starve. Even the toast is perfectly brown, void of the black edges that have become a characteristic of her dad's toast.

("Is it supposed to be dark like that?" Tahj remembers asking once. It had been apart of one of the few vivid memories after her mom left when her dad was still trying to get the hang of being Super Dad.

"That's what makes it crispy," her dad had replied with confidence.

Tahj was sure that it just was burnt, but she kept her mouth shut.)

Nathaniel can really cook. Tahj thinks this is something that tumbles solely in her mind. She realizes that she had said it aloud when Nathaniel starts talking. She's mildly embarrassed, mostly curious.

"Before my accident in junior high I had been captain of the soccer team. But I had to quit after it happened and my aunt let me help out in her restaurant to keep me from my boredom. I lifted boxes, butchered meat, and other things she could've used me for." Nathaniel sits up, fondness slipping into his voice. "Then she started to teach me the finer things about running a restaurant. When I started really cooking I never wanted to stop. I get to breathe life into food. I'm master of my own ingredients and the kitchen is like another realm for me. Food has no bias, Tahj. Anyone with a passion and a working nose can find what they were meant to be."

Tahj finds herself leaning forward, propping her elbow on the table and resting the side of her jaw in her curled palm.

"After the accident, I didn't know what I wanted to do. Im's had always been athletes. My father expected nothing less than that for me as well. I had always followed him because I knew nothing else. Then I found cooking and I realized that life is an ocean of possibilities. My only regret at the time was finding that out so late."

"I don't know what I want to do," Tahj blurts mindlessly. Nathaniel looks at her, only staring for a few seconds, then a grin appears.

"You're an artist, Tahj. Make art."

***

Night falls again.

The sky splits open in a hellish storm and Tahj shivers by her window. Her eyes are open and she's conscious, but her mind is stuck in her nightmare; the feminine silhouette appeared in her backyard as it usually did. Tahj ran to catch her and she disappeared again.

Her back is slick in a fine layer of cold sweat.

Nathaniel materializes by her side. The daze that follows her terrors must block out her own screaming.

Nevertheless, all that matters is Tahj clings to him desperately. The heed of the previous night dissolves. Nathaniel doesn't ask permission. He simply gathers Tahj in his arms and she lies on his chest, revelling in the concrete warmth and scentless body that engulfs her wholly.

When the haze passes Tahj is hyper-aware of the stoney muscle pressing gently into her cheek. Their legs are tangled and Tahj is in Nathaniel's lap. Her chest grows hot at the thought. Their positions are even more intimate than the night before. Tahj can't bring herself to pull away. She doesn't want to.

After some time of sitting in the darkness Nathaniel's breath hitches like he wants to say something. Tahj feels the hiccup rattle his chest, stutter his pulse, and she waits patiently for him to continue.

"I hope I'm not being rude. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"I'm the one being rude," Tahj mumbles.

"Why are so attached to this window?"

Tahj stirs at this.

Her throat tightens more and more the longer the question sits in the air. That is something she hasn't even told Izziah. Yes, she knows that Tahj's mom is out of the picture. She just doesn't know the extent of Tahj's nightmares, or the sort of deterioration they've caused. Mind you, it isn't for a lack of her friend's trying. There are things Izziah tries to wheedle out of her as they appear. This has never been one of them. Tahj loves Izziah like a sister; the bond they've built over the years accounts for all of the trust they have in each other. Still, there are things Tahj keeps to herself, not because she doesn't trust Izziah, but because she's afraid how they'll sound after they spill out of her mouth. She's afraid of the ridicule behind Izziah's hooded eyes disguised by a smile and nod.

Irrational, yes, but there.

Of course Tahj doesn't answer.

"I...can't. I...just-"

"That's alright."

The window seems like a portal. The sheet of rain pouring from the indigo sky muddles the reality before her eyes. She jumps when thunder cracks after brilliant lightning paralyzes her senses.

Nathaniel anchors his hand more securely on Tahj's side.

"Do you want me to stay?"

Tahj doesn't hesitate. "Yes."


	4. III

White assaults Tahj's eyes when she opens them in the morning. Her arms are cold and empty. She is deeply saddened to find a Nathaniel-less bed, and even more perplexed at the advances she herself had made. The situation is a bizarre one when she stops to think about it.

Some time during the night, snow had begun piling up again. The sodden ground is dusted with cotton when Tahj peers hesitantly out of it. She showers to chase the cold from her bones and throws on some sweats and a plain tee. Upon wandering into the kitchen she finds a brief note from Nathaniel that reads: "classes today. don't starve. i'll be back in the afternoon".

She discovers a spinach and cheese casserole in the oven and tucks into it deliciously while entertaining her thoughts of why Nathaniel is so amazing and when she'll wake up from this dream of hers.

"You don't have to cook all of the time," she says to an empty kitchen. "I'm a big girl."

***

Izziah blows up her phone in the afternoon.

"Lend me something," her panicked voice comes through the phone.

"What?"

"Lend me a painting," Izziah elaborates. "I have less than an hour to scan my art project and email it to my teacher. Then I have to take it to school on Monday. Can you bring me one?"

"Why don't you come get one?"

"I have other homework to turn in," Izziah whines. "Please, T. I'm gonna be screwed if I don't finish everything."

"Fine." Tahj begrudgingly agrees.

"Sweet. See you in a bit then." The line goes dead.

Tahj picks out a painting that she doesn't mind losing. It's old and nothing too extravagant. She spent a few hours working on it after she taught herself about shadowing. It's a pastel watercolor of a girl in a cafe. Decent, she concludes, and somewhat believable considering Izziah's actual skillset.

Tahj bundles up, switching her sweats for some jeans and lacing boots up midway to her knee. She trudges out of the house with her keys in one pocket, phone in the other, and both of her gloved hands shoved deeply into her coat pockets, sheathed painting tucked in her armpit snugly.

The street is comfortably deserted. That's where her comforts end.

Tahj squints against the splinters of unadulterated sunshine that pry beneath her hood and nearly chokes on the gelid air as it slides down her throat, restricting oxygen from squeezing through without the sharp stab of cold pairing along with it. The deeper she sinks into her coat the warmer she becomes, but that doesn't dull the drear of her journey as she trudges on toward Izziah's house; which, in reality, is only a ten-minute walk. Though, it feels much longer with winter air clogging her nostrils, freezing her extremities, and bringing literal tears to her eyes.

She finally arrives at the red-brick house and takes one long stride over the couplet steps, knocking on the door. After a minute of shivering at the front door, it opens, and Tahj falls inside gratefully.

"Tahj, buddy ole' pal." Izziah wheedles the painting and cover from Tahj before she has a chance to take off her boots. She slides out the painting and smiles.

"You've outdone yourself." Izziah pats her back once. "Confucius said when it is obvious that the goals cannot be reached, don't adjust the goals, adjust the action steps."

"I'm your action step?"

"Correct, my friend," Izziah nods. "Now let us take actions steps to Zombie Slayer III."

They hole themselves in Izziah's room with snacks and video games. Nostalgia sweeps over her as she leans back into the Pocahontas beanbag chair that used to engulf her small body. Now she can relax in the aged softness without having to tuck her legs underneath her to keep from being swallowed up.

Izziah's room isn't a mess like Tahj's is so she can roll over the floor when she makes a string of kills using codes Izziah has been begging for since they were eleven. Judging by the the neatness of her room no one would be able to tell that she only keeps this space clean while her life is actually a large mess, one that Tahj is consistently cleaning for her. They have been friends too long for Tahj to complain.

"You haven't sent me a panicked text to cry about anything Casanova has done." Izziah speaks with a casual urgency, trying to hold some sort of conversation as she's in the middle of a battle. 

"What happened? Is he dead?"

"His name is Nathaniel," Tahj says, tossing a ball in the air and following its rotation with her eyes.

"Casanova, Nathaniel. Same difference. No text. What's that about?" Her eyes are still on the screen. Locks of brown hair are hanging around her face as she inches a little off the bed, pressing buttons on the controller with urgency.

"Nothing," Tahj lies. She tries not to feel guilty. It isn't working out well though. "He came into my room last night."

Izziah pauses the game immediately, setting the controller beside her on the bed and looking at Tahj with that face that means 'keep explaining'. "Did you get the rifle?"

Tahj shakes her head with a strained smile. "It wasn't like that. He just consoled me when I had a nightmare. That's all."

"You had a nightmare and didn't tell me?" Izziah doesn't make it any easier on Tahj by sounding so hurt.

"It wasn't serious." Man, she hates lying.

"Serious enough for him to hear you making a fuss," she accuses. "You could've called me at least. Or texted."

"Next time I will. Promise." Tahj fails to tell her that it would be hard. Sometimes, she can't even remember her name. She's too busy shuddering, and crying, occasionally, to do something as simple as pick up her phone. Everything else that seems as trivial as that is a challenge when the same barren face is clogging up her thoughts and making her regret something that's not her fault.

By the time Tahj is done whooping Izziah in ZSIII the sun has already set and the street is pitch black. Tahj folds into herself as she walks home, basking in the orange streetlights that cast filmy shadows on the sidewalk until she plunges into darkness again. She rushes to the next streetlight, slowing her steps considerably to shiver in the dusty glimmer.

Wind whistles past her ears. Shadows duck in and out of her peripheral vision. She tries to convince herself that it's night and dark and that nothing is coming after her. She tells himself that no one is lying in wait to drag her off to an alley and bottle her organs. She tells herself that she can make it to the next block without harm.

She approaches a bus stop with a body huddled beside the sign, bundled up from head toe, and almost stops walking out of surprise. Alarms are going off in her head to switch sides of the street. She doesn't like feeling delusional, but she also likes living. An intense, short-lived battles wages in her head until she is almost at the bus stop and the body shrinks, true form appearing. The light tells her he can't be younger than sixty seeing as he's hunched and shaking from cold.

Tahj eases up, even smiles a little. The shape shifts and an old man appears out of her previous fears. She's upset that she even has the gall to give the sweet, wrinkled man the stink eye. He probably has six kids and ten grandchildren. His name is Willy Frank, but his friends just call him Will. He plays Chess every Sunday and goes to church. He's not apart of some senior citizen gang that preys on teenage girls.

She needs to stop. 

Tahj smiles and speaks to the man as she passes him.

"Evening, sweetheart." He smiles, dark freckles lighting up a canvas of smooth brown. 

 

Tahj makes it home after twenty minutes of paranoia piling up in her mind and reducing her thoughts to a scattered mess of nerves, all buzzing and on edge. Light spills from underneath the closed bedroom door of her dad's room. Tahj doesn't give it a second thought as she goes straight to her own room, closes the door, and pulls up a chair to her easel.

She immediately puts the shadows to paper.

The anxiety doesn't melt away. It never works that way. But she forces her brain to concentrate on something else until she can think straight. Tahj finds a bitter solace in the dark lines that bleed onto the white paper, marring its temporary purity. She works in planes when the urge arises. The sidewalks converge at a point and the shadows are streaks of charcoal and grey. Later, almost as an afterthought, she blotches a trembling dot in the center of the collage and finishes by signing her name at the bottom. It's really not worth enough for her to feel the need to mark it, but she does anyway, out of habit.

***

Each day passes with an exaggerated slowness. When Nathaniel is home, Tahj makes a conscious effort to show her face. She takes Izziah up on more offers to hang out at her house. Monica is there sometimes, which makes it harder for her to leave because Izziah thinks she's being slick when she coaxes Tahj into staying longer. She says it's because she misses her best friend and Nathaniel is doing a great job at luring the hermit out of her lair. Tahj sees right through it.

Izziah is ashamed of Monica. Tahj sees in the way that she is never willing to go downstairs when the tv is blaring Desperate Housewives, Monica's favorite show.

Out of all the homes Izziah's been to, Tahj likes Monica's the best. She's been around for five years already, a record. Of course there is no perfect household. They've both been around multiple times when Monica stumbled home from some club, slurring and giggling like a schoolgirl. Or from somewhere else, spacey and lethargic. Fortunately for everyone, regardless of whatever is leaking through her system, she never gets violent. She's more like a pet than anything. A heavy one that the two of them sometimes have to drag to her bed.

It's been five years already and Izziah is still ashamed. Tahj always has wanted to tell her that something is always better than nothing. She's seen worse. They're both lucky Protective Services pulled her out of some of the situations she's been in. Monica is a walk in the park compared to what she's already had to deal with. She cares.

Unlike some people.

Aside from chill with Izziah, Tahj paints, does independent study, listens intently when Nathaniel gives lessons, and sleeps as much as she can. Her night terrors have subsided for the past month and she doesn't look so hollow anymore. Nathaniel's meals help fill the gap between her thighs and the spaces in her ribs. Her complex returns; she's thin with chubby cheeks and a round, baby face. She doesn't mind as much though.

Nathaniel isn't really people. Not in the anxiety-inducing, nerve agitating sense.

When Tahj's dad calls to tell her he'll be away for at least another month or so she surprises the old man by taking it pretty well. Tahj can handle herself fine, won't go into a fit if she isn't looked after. It's no secret that Tahj has an attachment, a bond with her dad that no amount of time will lessen.Tahj can handle it though.

She is going entire weeks without the need to howl at her window like a lost wolf pup.

Victory.

Another day passes like it always does.

Tahj tells herself that she'll get eight hours of sleep. That she'll turn Nathaniel down even if he tries to help her because she's only being a nuisance. She will sleep through the entire night, wake up in the morning, and do something productive the next day.

Shae hates lying, especially to herself.

The black sky bends in a horrific way that casts a monstrous shadow on the flooding snow. Tahj stares wide-eyed, the tip of her nose grazing the cold glass as she dissociates. Her mind is full of stark nothingness, body paralyzed with fear. She doesn't realize she's shivering until she stops.

"You don't have to do this," Tahj says once she's settled in between Nathaniel's legs, head nuzzled in the juncture between his jaw and collarbone with a gall that dissipates once the sun rises. "You can just sleep."

"Would you be able to sleep when someone was screaming and crying?"

Tahj winces. She didn't know she was that bad.

"I told you, I've been here before," Nathaniel says with empathy in his voice. "It's not fun. I don't mind, really."

Tahj feels relaxed when Nathaniel strokes her arm, warm fingers kneading into her cold, fear-stricken skin. It's always worth it. She never forgets how weird this is, she can't. But as the days go on she is able to care less and less. Nathaniel has deep, brown eyes that spell comfort and home. He wraps his arms around Tahj like she'll try to get away.

She won't.

"Tonight?" Nathaniel asks, breath tickling Tahj's neck and causing her to shiver slightly. She's wound already as it is. As grateful as she is for him being here like he is, her lips won't move. She isn't completely sure if she wants them to either.

"I'm sorry," Tahj whispers back.

"Don't be."

And that's it. He doesn't push.

Tahj is too warm, too calm. She definitely falls asleep. That's not a mystery. The only question she has when she wakes, snuggled up in her bed, and feeling well-rested for the first time in a few weeks, is if the entire thing was a dream. She wonders while gazing sleepily at the bright rays of winter sun slicing through the gaps in her blinds if everything was a dream. Maybe Nathaniel hadn't helped her sleep last night. Maybe she took her medicine like her dad is always encouraging her to do. Maybe Nathaniel doesn't really feel like a superhero come to save her from herself.

Then she remembers that her blinds were most definitely drawn the night prior.

She goes downstairs in her pajamas. Nathaniel is up and watching television. He turns around on the couch when Tahj walks a little closer. His fringe is unstyled and settled on his forehead, grazing his sharp eyebrows. He's wearing a hoodie and some basketball shorts. Cute.

"You're up?" He grins.

"Yeah."

"Are you hungry?"

Tahj waves her hands when Nathaniel makes a move to get up.

"I'll do it," she says. "Are you hungry?"

Nathaniel shakes his head. "Already ate. It's almost eleven."

"Eleven?" She's more than surprised. It's been awhile since she slept that much. Of course she can't really pinpoint how long she was up and do precise calculations, but she feels better. It's been awhile.

"You slept well last night." There's something more to his genuine smile. Tahj can't help but grow fond at it. Nathaniel makes her stomach dip and quiver. She nods and disappears into the kitchen to draw up a plan to dig her way to China. She won't survive if he's going to keep looking at her like that.

Later on in the day, at around five, Izziah comes barging into her house, unannounced but welcome. By this time Tahj has showered and put on some casual clothes. Her hair even smells nice since she washed it earlier and left it two dry in two french braids, lathered in coconut oil. Her skin is cocoa butter soft. Nothing can ruin this sweet feeling. Nothing.

"Is that Casanova?" Izziah blurts as soon as she has her shoes off and coat in the closet. Nathaniel is just in the kitchen and it isn't like they have sound proof walls or anything.

"Big mouth," Tahj hisses and nudges her friend to the stairs. Izziah pokes her bottom lip out but complies nonetheless. They get to Tahj's room and close the door.

"Oh lawdy, he's handsome." Izziah plops herself on the bed. "You say he's your tutor?"

Tahj nods as she's dragging her easel from the corner and setting up shop in the middle of the room.

"Could I borrow him sometime? I'd be interested in learning a little anatomy myself." Izziah leans back on the pillows, kicking one leg over to prop it up on her other knee, smug.

Tahj makes a gagging sound. "Poor him."

"He's 19?" Izziah asks, completely ignoring Tahj's insult.

"Yeah."

"And you're 17?"

Tahj shakes her head slowly and shoots her friend a look of confusion. "Not quite sure where this is going but I'm scared to find out. You aren't about to say something like one plus nine equals ten and ten is the center of the universe, are you? Because that will officially be the dumbest thing I've ever heard. He's my tutor. That's it."

"You like him, don't you?"

Tahj's wrist freezes just as she is about to mix the blue with white to make turquoise, or something close enough. Izziah poses her a grin somewhere between smug and seems elated at Tahj's reaction. Tahj doesn't mean to. She's just so taken back by the question, and rightfully so.

Izziah is suggesting that Tahj has harbored a crush on a man she's known for, like, a month and a half. And as preposterous as that is in itself her friend has the nerve to to smirk about it.

"I don't," Tahj scoffs once she's recovered from her belated surprise. Sometimes she wishes her friend were as daft as her report cards probably make her foster parents assume.

"Judging by that look and reaction, can I say that I've hit it right on the nail?" Izziah looks like she is enjoying herself way too much, and at Tahj's expense. "It's not like you haven't done other things, i.e., your nightly escapades."

"You're perverted."

"And you're in denial."

"The door. Feel free to use it."

"I'm only teasing you," Izziah groans and twists around on Tahj's bed, feet swinging childishly in the air. "Come on, be honest with me and with yourself. You like him, don't you?"

"No," Tahj says, firm. Her head says that she can't be that weak, that vulnerable for her to succumb to the first guy that holds her.

"Real knowledge is to know the extent of one's ignorance."

Tahj looks up at her friend. "What does that mean?"

Izziah makes a grand show of closing her eyes and holding out both hands before she places one over her chest and points one finger at Tahj, eyes opening abruptly with a playfully sinister squint. "It means you like him."

"I knew it," Tahj curses, shaking her head and grumbling to herself afterward. "I knew you were gonna say that."

Someone knocks on the door.

"Come in," Tahj says from her easel. The paper is just as blank now as it was ten minutes ago. She hopes sitting here for a little longer will cause something to sprout in her brain.

"Hey." Nathaniel pops his head in.

"Hey." Tahj feigns business. She mixes some more colors in an attempt to seem preoccupied. She doesn't bother to wonder why she cares if Nathaniel thinks she's being productive.

"I know it's kind of late. But, finals is next week so a client of mine just called in for some extra help. I'm gonna head over right now and probably won't be back for a while," Nathaniel says.

"Okay, cool." Tahj shrugs with a slight grin.

"Later." Nathaniel turns to Izziah. "See ya'."

"Bye." Izziah waves. Nathaniel ducks out of the room. After a few minutes of Tahj scratching dumb ideas into her pad, Izziah jumps up.

"Speaking of finals..." She pads over to the door. "I have stuff to do as well."

"You're going to study?" Tahj asks in disbelief.

"I'm going to make arrangements," Izziah corrects her poshly.

Tahj snorts. "So, you're gonna find a way to cheat."

"Make. Arrangements," Izziah emphasises the words. "Listen, T. When it is obvious that the goals cannot be reached...-"

"You must cheat," Tahj cuts in with a snicker.

"Oh, hardy-har-har." Izziah rolls his eyes. "I'll remember to tell Nathan that. You know, Nathaniel, your lover?"

Tahj gets up so fast that her brushes and the tin they are in go flying off the ledge of her easel. Izziah's mocking kissy-face morphs into an expression of elation at the reaction she's managed to weasel out of her friend. Tahj chases her down the stairs. Izziah is barely able to grab her coat and shove her feet into her boots before Tahj slams the door behind her.


	5. IV

Tahj hadn't been asleep before. Now she's really not asleep as her eyes open in her dark bedroom and she wiggles closer to the wall as discreetly as possible. A weird prickle disturbs the hairs on her neck.

"Are you awake?" Nathaniel whispers, which is incredibly loud in the otherwise silence. Whether the man really isn't sure or if he's inviting Tahj to speak because he knows she is, she will never know. But, she is sure of the fact that Nathaniel's presence makes her heart thrum quick against her chest. She tries not to move even though her skin is crawling with something like anticipation. When Tahj is still enough and actually focused on anything other than the embarrassing stutter of her breathing she hears him sigh, long and heavy. Soft thumps sound before her door creaks, splashing dim light against her back and across her knees.

The door shuts and Tahj is plunged into confusion once more. Part of her actually regrets not having said anything, another part is perfectly comfortable where she is. Tahj blocks both of them out and tries to sleep the best she can.

When Tahj wakes the next morning she discovers a blueberry muffin wrapped in packaging sitting on the ledge of her easel. Her stomach growls right on time and it reminds her that she didn't eat dinner last night. Tahj opens the package with a little smile and nibbles away at it as she paints. Something has crawled into her spirit and is giving her the strength to to keep going without cringing and punching a hole through it out of frustration.

The features seem familiar. But Tahj can't really place them.

Before she teen can stop herself she's finished and the final product injects her with mortification. Shock crawls down her spine and makes her sit up straighter, cheeks flushed. Tahj stuffs the last piece of muffin between her teeth and chews as she dashes to prop the canvas up and facing the wall. She stares, perplexed, for a couple minutes at the wood and reflects deeply. The realization that she has just drawn a portrait of Nathaniel in stark detail sits with Tahj while she gathers herself enough to climb into her nook and stare out at the glistening snow, still shaken up inside.

If Izziah were to know about this she would tease Tahj until one of them was in their grave. Which is why no matter what happens Izziah will never find out about this. As soon as the painting dries she'll find somewhere to bury it, probably inside her closet, until she can come up with a better solution. She may even burn it. She hasn't decided yet.

Tahj chooses not to think about it. Because if she were to think about, which she won't, then she wouldn't be able to ignore Izziah's pining question. You like him, don't you? Of course, she doesn't like Nathaniel. The man is nice enough and helpful enough and friendly enough. Sure, he has gracefully slim eyes, a sharp jaw, cute teeth, pink lips, and this couplet of beauty marks below one eyebrow. His hugs are like a cup of hot chocolate without the brown residue lining the mug afterward. But none of that means that Tahj likes him. She's just very perceptive and keen about detail.

Nothing wrong with that.

No matter how much Tahj repeats this in her head, Izziah's question persists. She can still hear the accusation mixed with aggravating certainty in the latter's voice.

Tahj comes to a final ruling; she'll lock herself in her room until she's thirty and live off whatever she can scrounge in here. She can learn to hibernate to pass the time. Nothing is impossible when she has buckets of paint and half a phone battery.

Tahj abandons the plan almost immediately when her bladder starts hurting about half an hour later. She zooms downstairs to the bathroom to relieve herself and decides to loiter on the couch to further lift the disturbing occurrence from her mind.

She falls asleep at some point.

She can tell it's night just by the sound of fire crackling and the absence of harsh sunlight on her closed eyelids. She's drowsily satisfied that she had slept all the way to the evening. Her feet are freezing, but her torso and legs are toasty warm. Tahj also feels the emptiness of her stomach and is craving something hot and delicious.

"Beautiful."

Tahj immediately tenses at Nathaniel's voice, detached and distant in Tahj's darkness. She keeps her eyes shut firmly. In the span of a second she is aware of the weight of the man's warm hand on her back through the blanket. She's on her stomach so she could take a peek. Tahj stays exactly how she is, though, uncomfortable with the situation as a whole yet intensely curious at the same time.

"So beautiful."

Tahj buries her face in the couch gently as it gets hot against her will. She bites her lip to suppress any little noise when Nathaniel draws his hand up from the teen's mid-back to her shoulders and down again. The sweet, gentle drag of the man's hands and intentional press of his fingers into random places along her spine wreaks havoc on the her mind. Questions zip through at the speed of light. Izziah's weaselly little voice goes, you like him, don't you? And Tahj is on the verge of saying, yeah, kinda because she's warm and happy and Nathaniel smells like home.

"I wish I were able to tell you."

Tahj can't tell what that means because she's more than halfway passed out.

The hours of sleep fuel Tahj's premature awakening in the wee hours of the morning. Her stomach is in pain and she feels weak all over. She scoots her way down the steps with her eyes half closed and pads quietly into the kitchen. What she isn't expecting is to collide with a solid chest. Surprisingly, she doesn't flinch when strong arms wrap around her shoulders.

"You must be starving," Nathaniel whispers. Tahj doesn't know what this is. She has no idea why Nathaniel is hugging her like they're a real couple. She's more confused as to why she's letting herself be in this position. Nathaniel is soft and solid simultaneously. His possibly sleep deprived rasp is the best thing Tahj's heard in her entire life.

You like him, don't you?

"I think my stomach is going to start feeding on itself if I don't eat anything," Tahj grumbles, nose comfortably suffocated in the man's chest.

"Want an omelette?"

Tahj nods.

The teen doesn't want to think about why she feels empty when Nathaniel pulls away to turn on the light. She goes over to sit at the table while Nathaniel cracks eggs in a bowl and whisks them. The man joins her at the table when the mixture is sizzling in a pan.

"What did you want to tell me?" Tahj asks.

Nathaniel stares at her with a question on his face.

"Earlier," Tahj stutters, face growing hot and embarrassment crawling up her spine, "earlier, I was awake for a little when I heard you say that you wish you were able to tell me something. What is it?"

Nathaniel blinks for a couple seconds, then grins easily with no shame at all. "My friends and I are going to a pension for the weekend."

Tahj wilts at the news. Nathaniel is leaving. She shouldn't feel sad.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to come with. But, I didn't want you to be uncomfortable."

Tahj being 'uncomfortable' is an understatement. She bristles at the thought. Nathaniel probably doesn't know the extent of Tahj's anxiety. He possibly figures she has trouble with sociability. In actuality, the mention of Tahj being shoved into an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people sets her throat on fire. She can't bare the thought of it. Tahj is still baffled at why she's so comfortable with Nathaniel and why he just knows what she is feeling and how to deal with it. But, she's not ready to face the big, bad world and all of its horrors yet.

"I'd actually rather stay home," Tahj says, eyes downcast.

"That's alright." Nathaniel goes to check on the omelettes.

"Ready," he says from the stove. He plates them up and sets one in front of Tahj. They smell delicious. She steals glimpses of Nathaniel while they eat. He has such a neutral peace about him. He's content with even the smallest things. His eyes are cool and warm at the same time, juxtaposing themselves in a way that ignites a small inferno in Tahj's heart when he turns to smile at her. In a few days, Nathaniel will be off with his friends and Tahj will be alone in this tiny house with nothing to keep her company but the draft and the rain and her nightmares and the rain and her own self-inflicted injuries.

"Could Izziah come?"

"You'd go?" Jaebum sits up.

"Maybe." She shrugs.

"It's on the weekend and all. Of course she can come, you know, if her parents are cool with it. We have room."

"Why do you want me to come?" Tahj pokes at what's remaining of her omelette, spearing a piece and putting it in her mouth, chewing deliberately slow.

"Because I want you to," Nathaniel says, smiling.

Tahj doesn't know what to make of that. Maybe she wants her to go as well. Maybe she doesn't.

"Oh." Come on, she has to be able to do better than that. "Oh, okay."

Good.

Their conversation is very anticlimactic. Nathaniel is clearly tired and Tahj is clearly unequipped to carry out heavily one-sided dialogue. They talk for a little, sit for a little, and then part for the rest of the night. Tahj barely sleeps once she's in her bed.

Morning arrives.

The electricity of the night prior is still crackling, loud and obnoxiously present. Tahj hopes to drown herself in a glass of orange juice, but with Nathaniel dominating the kitchen as she has come accustomed to him doing, Tahj can't bring herself to actually go in. She slinks back up the stairs to her bedroom and collapses on the bed.

Her heart is thumping like crazy. She prays for it to slow down, or maybe just stop altogether. The portrait that she has thus neglected to stow away stares at her. Nathaniel's gentle eyes that Tahj had recreated so vividly glare at her from their glossy mount above a nose scrunched in disapproval and pink lips pressed thin. Realistically, his expression can only be described as neutral, but with the way Tahj is feeling, the features could rearrange themselves any which way. 

All of the things Tahj has forced herself not to think about bulldoze her scattered mind all at once. She thinks about why she's worried if Nathaniel finds her productive, about how it's inappropriate, and yet, Tahj crawls into Nathaniel as if he is the sun deity who protects her from clouds. She considers why the thought of being left alone injects her with a crippling fear. The thought of being surrounded by people makes her sick to her stomach, but the reality of being all alone in the sea of her bed terrifies her as well.

She spends the rest of the day in her room and avoiding Nathaniel at all costs. It's ridiculous the way she's tip-toeing around her own house. She's too afraid to run into Nathaniel and change her already flimsy resolve of staying home.

Tahj comes face to face with him once, before bed. He's smiling and looking all cute and nice. Tahj thinks she looks like a burglar, holding onto her glass of water with one foot on the step in front of her. Nathaniel walks from upstairs to meet her on the bottom step.

"I haven't seen you all day," he says. "Is this about earlier?"

"No." That probably sounded like a lie. Danggit.

"Don't feel pressured. I'd love for you to come. You're a cool girl. Cute, too. My friends kinda want to meet you as well. But, they're big kids. They can handle a little rejection. 'Night." Nathaniel pats her shoulder on the rest of his way down and goes into the kitchen. The light switches on after that.

Tahj goes back up to her room. She paces for a little, paintbrush twitching restlessly between her fingers. What does that even mean? 'My friends kinda want to meet you.' How rudely cryptic of him. Doesn't he understand that Tahj is going to rip all of her hair out if she doesn't figure this out? To go, or not to go. Well, isn't that the question?


	6. V

Tahj's bags are magically packed Friday morning. She vaguely remembers her hands moving by themselves but she can't believe it. It takes a while for her to come to terms with her awkward acceptance of the fact that she really needs to go on this trip. If she doesn't then she'll just hole herself in her room and not eat or sleep for days. She might have to answer a call from her and tell him that she's doing fine.

She hates lying.

Someone comes into her room while she is blind and still trying to get her shirt on. She has a mini heart-attack at the possibility that it's Nathaniel.

"Stop being naked and hurry up." Izziah tickles her armpit and Tahj kicks her foot blindly, nearly losing her balance.

She pulls the rest of her shirt on.

"Why did I invite you again?" Tahj grumbles as she walks over to grab her portable easel and carries it over to an open suitcase on her bed, where Izziah is lazing around and being a big butt. 

"Because you love me."

"I should have let you drag your doll around alone in Kindergarten." Tahj folds the easel up.

"It wasn't a doll," Izziah defends immediately. "A Confucian figurine is hardly a child's plaything."

"But you're not a nun?" Tahj cocks an eyebrow in her friend's direction.

"You're confusing your religions, my dear," Izziah says, aloof.

Tahj shakes her head. She knows Izziah is right, but her smug stare is unbearable. "Right. I'm the weird one here."

"You're taking forever with that thing. Just let your heart tell you what to bring."

"Is that how you make decisions?" Tahj asks.

"Nah. I'm just messin'. But, really, we have a long way to go," Izziah says, adding, after a pause, "You're lover's waiting."

That gets them down the steps pretty quickly. Tahj slams her suitcase closed and zips up her backpack, grabbing them both and running after a giggling Izziah out of her bedroom and down into the living room.

"Oh, hey, Nathan." Izziah stops and abruptly at the bottom of the steps and Tahj runs into her back.

"You guys okay?" Nathaniel smiles like he's holding a laugh.

"Fine," Tahj says. "We should go. You know, traffic and stuff."

"Right. And stuff."

Tahj locks the house once everyone is out and crunches through the snow to the silver volvo waiting like a bad omen in the driveway. The day is relentlessly cold. Tahj shudders terribly once she crawls in the backseat next to Izziah. Both her friend and Nathaniel give her strange looks accentuated by dark eyebrows tilting up.

"Wouldn't you rather sit in the front?" Izziah nudges her with one skinny, solid elbow. Tahj hisses at the jab, shaking her head.

"I'm good." She sinks into the plush interior. She expertly avoids eye contact with Nathaniel who gives up within a few seconds and the engine roars to life afterward. Tahj spends the first hour of the ride bickering with Izziah and gazing out of the window as the landscape morphs from the brisk city of Portland to the snow sodden countryside.

Tahj cracks an eye open after a little nap, tongue heavy as cotton and body limp. She locks blearily onto a familiar face with her one eye and quickly opens the other. Her cheek is smashed into the seat belt, but she's too tired to care about how her neck with probably feel like wood or how long the indention of the belt will last after they arrive at their destination. She just knows that the car is not in motion, Izziah is missing, the sky is darker, oh, and Nathaniel is staring at her in a way that makes her feel weird on the inside. She's too tired to say anything about it.

"We've got a few more hours to go," Jaebum informs quickly with a demure grin. "You sleep like a baby."

"I don't sleep well at night," Tahj replies briefly, and then adds for some odd reason, "You should know." She curse herself mentally the second after it leaves her lips She doesn't know why she feels obligated to force a connection that's already there, to say such crass stuff.

Or maybe she does.

Nathaniel blinks once, a shy yet confident smile spreading across his face in the most satisfying of ways.

"I guess I do."

"Who wants msg?" Izziah gets back in with armfuls of little black bags. Her bright smile is excited and full of anticipation. Tahj wishes she were able to indulge in her best friend's obvious excitement, but the more Tahj thinks about what they are about to do, the more her stomach contracts in displeasure. She shakes her at her friend and closes her eyes again to allow the motion that starts soon after to lull her into another nap. Sleeping is the only thing at this point that will calm her.

"Baby bear," a soft voice blows hot air into her ear. Tahj frowns lightly when she realizes what's going on.

"I'll kill you," she hisses.

"I'm a pacifist," Izziah protests with a gasp tucked somewhere in her voice, scandalized.

Tahj opens her eyes and they find Izziah in the dark car. "No, you're an idiot. Where are we?"

"At the pension, sleeping beauty."

"Already?" Tahj asks. It feels like they just left.

"What do you mean already?" Tahj can't see Izziah's face very well, but she's probably rolling her eyes if the scoff clearly present in her voice is anything to go by. The little prick. "You slept the whole way here. Get up."

Tahj does as told. When she's upright and shivering in the brutal cold she can see better. The snow is gone and a ruthless wind blows through every loose article of clothing to compensate. They have the volvo pulled into a road that winds up the side of a row of identical buildings with what looks like the main entrance at the far end that Tahj has to squint to see. Streetlights are erected along the pathway that leads to the main entrance and they cast shadows on the faces of some buildings.

A string of other cars are parked before the volvo. A set of headlights is still on when Tahj is retrieving her backpack from the trunk and they switch off when Nathaniel locks the car doors. Like a domino effect, one car door opens, then another and another until there are three young men and a young woman standing beside the cars, stretching and such.

Tahj does her best not to do anything that will make her look like an idiot. She sucks at it. She hangs back with her friend while Nathaniel does a round of greetings.

The one Nathaniel approaches first is a little on the short side. He's slender with very clearly bleached fringe and a long, handsome face. His dark jeans and suave peacoat, not to mention the set of keys that are probably his he's twirling around one finger, suggest that he has a little money.

Next is one a little taller than the last, though not by much. He's thicker and stockier than the last as well, like Nathaniel. He has brown, fluffy fringe that comes to the slightest point just below his dark eyebrows and his wide smile looks like an infectious one. His tan skin brings out the hazel of his eyes.

The tallest of the three, although the youngest looking one, has raven hair styled in a voluminous upward coif. He's the skinniest, not even his puffy coat can hide his impossibly thin legs and his jaw is sharp like a bucket of knives. There's a mischievous glint to his dark eyes and a playful wink buried in them.

The young woman is taller than all of them. Not by much but still noticeably so. Her black hair is chopped short, just the ends stick out from underneath a skull cap. Her dark skin offsets her ruby red lips and her green eyes are rounded with a complimentary pinch at the ends that prevent them from seeming freakishly large.

Leave it to Nathaniel to have gorgeous friends as well. Birds of a feather truly do flock together. This fact doesn't help to quell the bubbling anxiety. Tahj tries to make herself as small as possible beside Izziah.

"Are you Tahj?" Short Hair asks with an apprehensive wave of her hand, looking right at Izziah.

Izziah shakes her head curtly with a tight grin. "That's an insult to the both of us."

"Shut up." Tahj instinctively pinches the crap out of Izziah's neck.

"Damn you." Izziah scowls, massaging the reddening skin.

"She's Tahj." Nathaniel steps in before the two can embarrass themselves further. He pats Tahj's shoulder, and then gestures to Izziah. "This is her friend, Izziah."

"This is Nazima, Mark, Kuhn and Jackson." Nathaniel motions to each one respectively. Short Hair is Nazima, Bleached Fringe is Mark, Baby Face is Kuhn, and Hazel Tan is Jackson.

"Nice to meet you all," Tahj says. Her palms are already damp. What if they hate her?

"Can we see your art?" Kuhn asks with excitement in his voice. Tahj is so taken aback that she forgets to stutter.

"My art?"

"Yeah," Mark cuts in. "Nathaniel told us that you make sick art. Are you more of a sketch artist or do you like to paint?"

Tahj smiles. "A little bit of both. But, I do find myself painting more nowadays. Watercolor is my favorite. I dabble in acrylic as well. It hasn't really stuck with me yet, though. Too thick."

"Sweet." Mark grins. "I'm a watercolor person myself as well."

"Can we go inside now?" Kuhn shivers. "It's kinda cold."

They sludge through the snow. Tahj nearly falls flat on her butt a couple of times. She would've knocked out some teeth hadn't it been for Nathaniel's quick reflexes.

The main building is warm and brightly lit. A round desk centralizes the entire space as people mill about. Some are families and others look like couples. Workers enter and exit a room marked 'staff only' at the foot of a staircase winding behind a wall that must lead somewhere. Potted plants and brown settees complete the interior.

Tahj presses herself in the corner of a seat and taps mindlessly on her phone. A message pops up in her inbox.

Hope you're having fun.

-Dad, 10.23pm

She should be having more fun than she is. Nathaniel's friends are nice enough. She hasn't been met with any side eyes yet. Although, this can't make up for the dread bubbling in her gut like a volcano ready to blow if anyone says the wrong thing. Times like these make her wish she weren't as opposed to her meds as she actually is. She'd popped one early in the morning as a safety precaution and that's why she's been hibernating for hours. Her only regret now as she's sitting in the lobby of this place with people battering her senses down from every angle, disgustingly sober and aware, is that she hadn't packed any to take while she was here.

Tahj can be very stubborn.

"Okay." Mark stands at the head of the group. Tahj cranes her neck a little so she can see what's going on over the chatter of the group itself and everything else going on.

"There are seven of us and only three rooms. Who's rooming with who?"

"Tahj and I," Izziah pipes up from Tahj's side. She can't help but smile at that.

"You two." Mark tosses a key in their direction and Tahj catches it.

"Why not have the three youngest in a room?" Mark suggests.

"That's a good idea," Jackson says.

"Ok, then Jackson and Kuhn." Mark hands one key over to Jackson.

"Mark and I." Nathaniel nods.

Things get settled quickly enough and the group circles to talk excitedly about what they want to do tomorrow. Izziah squeezes her tall self in an open space and looks back at Tahj, offering. The latter shakes her head, so Izziah nods and turns back around. Tahj hovers on the outside and listens in. She's comfortable from here.

Kuhn talks with the speed and urgency of a motorboat. His lips move so fast that they hardly seem to be, and yet sound is coming out of them. He wants to be up in time to see the sunset and then get breakfast when they began serving it at six-thirty. It's all very realistic in general but not so much for a huge group of teenagers. They'll be lucky if they even rise in time for breakfast. Tahj would offer to go with Kuhn since she is likely to be awake at that time as well. She just doesn't have the confidence to say what she might want to. Conversing is really hard. It's difficult to talk to someone and constantly fear that they're disinterested in her, or what she is saying, or both.

She ends up not saying anything afterall.

They have to take an elevator and walk down a long hall to get to their room. It's on the third floor and in close quarters with the rest. There are two beds made up with white sheets and pillows, a glass door leading to the balcony, and another door just off the main one that is hanging open to reveal a clean, unlit bathroom.

"Called it." Izziah runs and pounces on the bed closest to the balcony. Tahj smiles as she heads over to sit at the foot of the bed while Izziah rolls over the breadth of it like a small child.

As amusing as Izziah's antics are Tahj's eyes are drawn to Nazima. She is unzipping her blue duffle bag while standing over the other bed and arranging her things. Her green eyes are blazing in the dim light. She looks like a Lioness, with her black hair framing her face perfectly and sharp features complementing the angled structuring of it. She only realizes she's being incredibly rude when Nazima looks up and smiles at her.

"Sorry." Tahj averts her eyes.

"It's fine." She finishes her unpacking by putting a little figurine of a young girl on a swingset on top of the dresser next to her bed. Nazima gives it a flick for good measure. It actually moves. Oddly, the swinging motion reminds Tahj of Nathaniel.

It bothers her still that Nathaniel is unwilling to talk about his leg even when he's told her about most other things. A simple trick of the eye has grown into way more; there isn't a doubt in Tahj's mind that Nathaniel injured his right leg in his accident and isn't planning on telling her anything about it. It's really none of her business and Nathaniel is more than justified in his right of keeping silent. But, the thing is, Tahj is itching to hear from him herself about what he clearly isn't telling her already. She has gotten over her inner turmoil by this point. She knows why she wants so badly to know so much about him.

You like him, don't you?

Yeah, she really, really does.

As terrifying at that is even just admitting it to herself, she can't avoid thinking about it any longer. And the more she thinks about it the more evident the truth becomes.

***

Saliva is crusted on the side of her face when Tahj slips out of a dreamless slumber. The worst part is that it isn't even hers. She takes a moment to shudder at the revelation. Then she pries Izziah's arm from her torso and slips out of bed. Sunlight spills in long stripes through the glass door, so Tahj should have no trouble seeing. Except, her eyes are barely open and she stumbles to the bathroom anyway. She pays no mind to the cracked door and artificial, orange glare leaking from underneath it. She pushes the door open the rest of the way and rubs her eyes in the doorway, blinking to loosen the sleep from them and stretching so wide that her shirt rides up high on her stomach.

Tahj's hem drops to its proper place when her arms do and she is alert. She sees what she shouldn't be seeing. Nathaniel's warm, brown eyes blink at her. Tahj's sleepy smile freezes off her face when her gaze drops to the blunt cap of rigged skin just above where Nathaniel's right ankle should be. His signature dark jeans are rolled up to his thigh and he's sitting on the edge of the porcelain basin. His grip on a prosthetic foot is desperate, aware and fearful in a way that makes Tah shiver.

For the first time since Tahj has been acquainted with him, Nathaniel blushes. It begins as a faint red that curtains over his cheeks and neck and then grows into a deep ruby that displays his embarrassment clear as day. Tahj fumbles for words and thoughts and air. This piece of Nathaniel that she wanted so badly to know is spilled out in front of her eyes. Nathaniel is fully-clothed, but for some reason it feels to Tahj like he's naked instead. This is private, something he has no permission to see. And yet...

This moment brands itself into Tahj's mind. The blush over Nathaniel, the smooth skin surrounding his amputation interrupted by the slight ridges, eyes uncertain and lost. Who knows? She may even paint about it. It won't be the first time.

"You slept the entire night," Nathaniel finally says.

"It's been a while," Tahj replies simply, heart thumping like crazy in agonizing contrast. "You're in our bathroom."

"Yeah." Nathaniel sighs. "Kuhn is singing T.G.I.F and taking an hour-long shower in ours because Jackson is using theirs. Sorry."

"No, no," Tahj trips and stumbles over her own words. "It's not like I own it or anything. Take as long as you want."

They spend a minute just staring after Tahj goes silent. She tries her best not to overreact because it may scare Nathaniel away. She wants to tell him that it's okay and she'll accept him in whatever way he comes, so there's no need to look so abashed by the situation. Tahj feels that much more affirmed in her earlier perception of Nathaniel being...different. Just different than what Tahj has ever seen. He's warm and cozy, not strange at all. Maybe Tahj is thinking faster than reality is likely to move. Maybe Nathaniel just thinks of her as a friend, or worse, just a client.

A sharp click resonates in the bathroom. Tahj is back to the present again. Nathaniel overtakes her again when he stands. Nothing remains of the moment they've just shared because he is back to being broad and whole. Tahj can't explain why she's sad at that.

"Kuhn wanted breakfast." Nathaniel slips past Tahj in the doorway. "Why don't we go since we're up? We can bring Izziah and Nani back something."

Tahj nods wordlessly. She turns to assess her friend's current condition.

"I swear she's dead." She snorts incredulously. Izziah is hanging off the bed and her mouth is unhinged, real attractive. "Wait, lemme take a picture."

"Don't be late." Nathaniel leaves before Tahj can say anything. She sighs openly once the door closes and shrugs, shaking her head. She can figure out whatever she needs to later. Right now, she's going to refresh her blackmailing reserve.

Tahj startles when Izziah murmurs in her sleep. But, she just turns the other way and the former relaxes with a devious smile. Friendship really is a fickle thing. She's sure Izziah will understand.

Tahj dresses fast so she can't think about how much she doesn't want to go down for breakfast and would much rather gorge on ramen and comics with Izziah for the day.

Jackson is at the table as well when she goes down. This only further discourages Tahj from sitting down. She strongly considers turning on her heels and b-lining for the elevator when Kuhn spots her, waving and smiling wide. Shoot, shoot, shoot.

"Tahj, come sit with us!" Kuhn bounces at the sight of her. Tahj all but blanches when Jackson turns his eyes on her along with Nathaniel. She walks over to the square table and sits on the side with Nathaniel, facing Jackson and Kuhn.

"Morning," Tahj says. Her eyes burn big, black holes into the corner of the table. They must take it as fatigue and don't comment on Tahj's tone. She's very grateful.

Soon, the table is full, minus Izziah.

"What are we doing today?"

"They have an arcade," Nazima says whilst jabbing his fork into a cup of grapes.

"That's for children," Kuhn protests, eyes big and mouth pouting.

"You are a children." Nazima smiles. Kuhn doesn't.

"This was supposed to be fun!"

"It will be," Mark says. "Especially when I slay all of you in PacMan."

"You're still not over that?" Jackson sounds fairly surprised.

"You cheated and you know good and well I'm gonna get you back for it."

"You're a toddler, Zhao. How long has it been?" Jackson scoffs with an eyeroll.

"Two long, hard years dealing your bull just to arrive at this moment."

"Okay, fine. We can finish eating, rest a little and then go to the arcade. I mean, there's an entire day ahead of us. How long will it take to whip Mark's soft behind in PacMan?"

It takes a very long time.

They're still not done. The arcade is in a separate building from the main one, next to a shack that sell snacks during the day. The best thing about it is that they have Galaga, Asteroids and Street Fighter. Tahj zones out Mark and Jackson's alien shrieks and determined grunts as she flits between the three games. She strays further sometimes to shoot some basketball, but she always circles back to one of the three. She relaxes on the stool as zaps and clicks fill the dim space. She hardly even flinches when Nazima leans on the dormant game next to hers and pats her back.

"So, you're Tahj?" Nazima says.

Tahj is positive that they've already established this. She looks at her for a moment. Her lips quirk up slightly and she nods, turning back to her game.

"You are cute."

Tahj hiccups. "Uhm,...-"

"What do you think of Nathaniel?" Nazima's eyes are clear and steady in focus, casually interested. She makes that really good eye contact that would cause anyone else to swoon at how intently she seemed to be listening. It just makes Tahj want to crawl under a rock and die.

"He's nice." Tahj nods to one one in particular. Her fingers swipe over the controls and she tries not to mess up due to Nazima's surprise intrusion.

"He likes you."

"What?" Tahj messes up anyway.

"Nathaniel is a really good guy, and he's been through so much in the past few years." Nazima waits for Tahj to look at her before continuing. "He really likes you. He's always talking about how talented you are and how sweet you are. Nathaniel is a pretty straight forward guy. I've yet to see him so flustered and at a loss for words."

Tahj thinks back to this morning. Nathaniel's blushing face and his unsure gaze. He might've looked like that.

"He also says you're really smart and intuitive," Nazima continues. Tahj tries to calm down because she can feel her neck heating up.

"He really said that?" Tahj asks.

Nazima nods. "He gushes about you so much it's hard to believe all this is coming as a surprise, Tahj."

Her skin prickles with excitement at the thought.

Tahj thinks hard about what Nazima said. Is she happy? Yes. Has anything really changed? Maybe. Is it likely that she'll do anything about that? Not really. She likes Nathaniel and Nathaniel may like her back. But, what does that really mean? She's still confused. She isn't right for him. Nathaniel is a social butterfly. He likes to hang out on the weekends and meet with friends. Tahj would like to do those things as well, if only she weren't so distraught all of the time and caught up in a trap her own thoughts set for her.

Maybe she would have said something (doubtful) had it not started storming like hell threw open its gates and allowed desolation to rain from the sky in fat drops, sinking heavily into the sea like stones and rippling the clear, blue surface. Disturbingly enough, Tahj is alert and she knows where she is, what her name is and all. Which makes everything that much worse. Her mother is forever a shadow that waltzes across the sand and drowns in the angry tide. She's not sure why she can't ever let her go. She has no meaning in her life. She barely recalls her shoulder-length black hair and translucent skin. Her cold hands that tucked her in before bed and then disappeared by morning.

She doesn't care.

Why can't she let her go?

Her voice hisses to Tahj in the dark. She kicks the covers back and gets out of bed. She needs to know why she left her, why anyone was more important than her own daughter, why she hated Tahj enough to leave without a note or a trace to where she was going.

"Ouch."

Tahj's head clears and she looks down, squinting.

"Nathaniel? What are you doing here?"

"Mark brought a girl back to the room. He kicked me out." He groans, rolling over onto his back. He pauses, then he's sitting up and grabbing Tahj's hand. "What's wrong?"

She breaks. Nathaniel is warm and cozy. He's always been. His attention is undivided. Tahj's skin melts into globs at the very edge of her bones and she sways, heavy. Tears pool down her cheeks because she can't hold them back. She drops into Nathaniel's lap.

Everything is wrong.

Is it even possible to make a distinction when nothing is right?

As if he can sense Tahj's inner turmoil, Nathaniel wraps his arms around her. She twists around and her eyes are caught by Nathaniel's. Brown and warm, and brown and safe, and brown and everything will be okay. She can't blink when all of Nathaniel is pouring into her body at once. It's hard to breathe.

"I'm not going to leave you." Nathaniel tugs Tahj closer by the waist. Their noses bump.

Weight lifts off her shoulder at the words, though she's still uncomfortably snug in her own skin, chest still tightly stretched.

"Please don't," Tahj whispers, desperate and terrified.

Lips press lightly onto hers. They are every bit as smooth and wonderful as Tahj had imagined. Her heart is thumping and his hands slide carefully on Nathaniel's neck, while he allows his own to grip Tahj's waist. Their lips slot and mesh together in a way that makes Tahj crinkle her nose. It's weird, but she can get used to it, she supposes. Nathaniel's nose cards hers and he tips his head to the side more. Fire pops and churns in the pit of her stomach.

Kissing is weird. Especially first kisses. Tahj has never done this before so she has nothing to compare it to. She doesn't know if this would be considered good or bad. All she knows is that Nathaniel makes her feel all fuzzy in the grossest cheesiest way possible but she wouldn't trade this feeling for anything in the world. Is that normal?

When she needs to come up for air, Tahj pats Nathaniel's shoulder and he releases her immediately. They pant together in the semi-lit room as rain pelts the window.

"I really like you," Nathaniel says. His raspy voice is once again distracting her from thinking straight. She manages to open her mouth despite the fact that her heart is thumping against her chest like a hammer against a stubborn nail, steady at first yet becoming increasingly frustrated. 

"I like you, too."

Just like that, the information hangs in the air. Tahj has no idea what to do with it. Her brain is a tangle of nerves and red flags that tell her to go back to where she's came, to take back the words swinging in front of her eyes like an omen for something. She can't say that she wishes she never said them; the confession is like a warm cup of milk after a night of shivering in the dark, alone. She's grateful to Nathaniel for sparing her more nights of frenzied thoughts in place of sleep which she can never get enough of.

Nathaniel baffles her to no end. This man, who is both whole and not, fills Tahj with bright confusion and suffocating warmth.

"Do you really?" Her voice sounds small even to her.

"Yes, I really do. Do you?" He wraps Tahj up tighter and ducks his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling his nose into Tahj's neck.

"I do."

She breaks again. It doesn't feel so bad.

The dripping that had begun about an hour after the freakish rain stopped has been replaced by stark silence. Tahj rolls over on her back and stretches, fingers brushing over someone's soft face. Her insides swirl in this magically sick way.

"Morning." Nathaniel pecks her cheek sweetly. Tahj swoons.

"Good morning." Tahj blushes when he whispers how beautiful she is in the morning right in her ear. Her mind is stuck in Nathaniel's reliable grasp, at his will to twist out of shape. Tahj is deathly afraid of how much trust she's put in Nathaniel to not screw her over. She hopes she won't regret it.

"Good morning," a voice sing-songs obnoxiously. Tahj groans inwardly and outwardly. She really doesn't need to hear it. "Oh, I knew it, babe."

Not right now. Not so early in the morning.

Izziah only nags 'i told you so' for half an hour, all through breakfast. Tahj is surprised. She had been expecting worse. She must not feel well.

"Whose gonads dropped first?" Izziah nudges Tahj with his shoulder. "I put twenty dollars on Nathaniel."

"You barely have ten in your piggy bank."

"It's all metaphorical, Tahj. Confucius once said-"

"Why did that guy talk so much? Didn't he have anything better to do?"

"He was a genius. A revolutionary. Far beyond his time. Mad quote-worthy."

"Why couldn't it have been me?" Tahj asks.

"Bullshit." Izziah barks out a laugh. "No way."

"You know what?" Tahj scoffs, spearing a sausage on a plastic fork and practically shoving it in Izziah's open mouth, to which the latter coughs and glares, chewing reluctantly. "Suck on that. I'm going to get more."

Tahj crosses the carpeted area of the dining room filled with tables and chairs, overlooking views of nothing but snow and grass and parking space. She walks over to the tiled area where the food is set out, buffet style, and debates over whether she wants the tough, dense pancakes or the soggy french toast. Honestly, if it were up to Tahj, she'd order anything made by Nathaniel Im. If it isn't an industrial-sized pot of porridge or scrambled eggs, she doesn't want to eat it. But, to appease herself, she picks up a pancake, puts it on her plate, and sprinkles it with powdered sugar. It couldn't look farther from appetizing.

"Nutritious."

Nathaniel appears next to her. He wasn't there a second ago, and it's surreal how quickly her pulse speeds up, palms sweaty at the rapid change in air pressure. Her mind replays the scene from last night, or this morning, over and over again in her head, like a cracked CD that keeps hiccuping over the same thirty seconds.

Nathaniel looks suave in a forest green, fleece sweater and dark jeans. His hair is untampered on his smooth forehead, messy yet with a place for every rogue strand. His eyes are just as warm and brown as usual.

Tahj's head spins.

"You should eat more ,and better." Nathaniel chuckles, scooping some soup into his bowl, eyes on the line of food momentarily before finding Tahj's, winking flirtatiously. She averts his eyes with haste, venturing to bump her elbow with Nathaniel's. The shock lifts some when a hearty giggle rings beside her, and she can't help doing so herself.

"You're awful." Tahj chides lightly with a small smile.

"What?" Nathaniel bends a little, forcing his face in Tahj's view, knocking the oxygen straight out of her lungs and leaving her winded in the worst, best way possible. "You don't like it? But, I do." Nathaniel winks consecutively, angling his head around and winking some more.

"Stop!" Tahj laughs, pushing his chest away. Nathaniel takes the opportunity to wrap his fingers around Tahj's wrist and keep it on his chest. Tahj stills a little, laughter still rumbling in her throat but silenced by the fresh fire brewing in Nathaniel's eyes. His smile is bright and passionate, endlessly accepting. If there were ever a time to be self-conscious Tahj figures it is now. His expressions are three-dimensional; she can't manage the layer upon layer depth that Nathaniel achieves, probably without even trying.

"Have I told you that you're beautiful?" Nathaniel smiles boyishly, words almost breathless in a way that boggles Tahj's senses. Nathaniel can't be as affected by this as Tahj is. It's impossible.

"I think, probably." Tahj smiles back.

"Good." Nathaniel nods. "I think I'll say it everyday then, because it's true."

"Shut up, shut up. Stop." Tahj groans, breaking eye contact to squint at the unappetizing pancake in disbelief. How is this even happening to her? She wants this on every level possible but can't process that it's actually reality. She doesn't deserve it but she won't decline any of Nathaniel's advances because she's just as weak now as she was the night before, crashing into a confession under her dazed state. There was no real way to tell if she would have done it in a right mind or not. Her own determination and will mean nothing. She's gone back on promises to herself many times. This time might've not been any different.

What if she messes up? What if Nathaniel ends up hating her? What if-

"Look at you two." A familiar voice goads beside them. Tahj looks over her shoulder to see Nazima standing there, dimples proud and eyes perceptive. "How cute."

Tahj wrenches her wrist out of Nathaniel's grasp, to no one's apparent surprise. Her fading smile sizzles right off her lips.

"Hey," Nathaniel says playfully. He takes Tahj's hand in his and interlocks their fingers. Tahj feels the heat rising from her stomach, steadily, at first, and then all at once.

"Don't mind me." Nazima plucks a dumpling from a steaming metal tin and takes a bite, tipping the dumpling like one would a top hat. "Just a hungry woman on a quest."


	7. VI

A walk along the beach is just what Tahj needs. She just needs herself and the sky. There's a long deck that connects glass doors, leading from a tiled space with nothing in it but two elevators, and a fire escape, to the sand. The sun is going down at a rapid pace. Only twenty minutes after Tahj steps out of the doors, the horizon is an electric plum shade, melting quickly into navy blue, and finally indigo, dotted with twinkling stars. The lights on the side of the building come on, splashing pale, orange light about three-quarters of the way out on the sand from the deck, leaving the sea a picture of dark, moving shadows.

Tahj finally gets up from a chair on the deck and waddles out to the short stairs that eventually disappear into sand. If it weren't for it being winter and freezing like the arctic out here she would probably already have her boots and socks off. It looks soft. She ventures farther out to where the light vanishes, using the swoosh of the waves as a safety net for staying on land.

Wind bites her face but Tahj doesn't turn away. She stops to take a deep breath of the air that burns her nostrils and stings her throat before moving on. It's large and empty, exactly what Tahj needs to think.

She doesn't panic when a shadow drifts off to sea. She's no longer afraid, just irritated.

Tahj is afraid of the body that lowers itself next to hers. She relaxes though when Nazima's face is barely recognizable underneath the sheet of darkness. Her voice is clear and calming.

"You seem like the type to be out here," she says.

Tahj burrows deeper into her coat, and says, "So do you."

"Thinking?" she asks.

"Yeah," Tahj answers.

"Can I think, too?" Nazima asks again. Tahj finds the dark sparkle of her eyes in a quick once-over of her huddled body, knees cushioned against her chest through the thick coat. Nazima grins easily, dimples invisible under the shade of night. Tahj grins back.

And that's how they end up sitting by the shore for over an hour, in silence.

Tahj doesn't say anything and Nazima doesn't say anything and they both just sit there. She has to admit that sharing her thinking time with someone else feels nice. She has the reassurance that if she wants to talk she can, but she doesn't want to and that's just fine by Nazima.

The sea gurgles and churns waves. They sometimes lap over the tip of Tahj's boots. She doesn't mind, is too distracted to mind. Her thoughts are wrapped around a shape in the water that seems eerily familiar. It makes the most sense that it would be a buoy of some sort. Tahj knows this, but she can't help but wonder if it's not, and what that makes it if it's not. Why does she even care? She shouldn't.

When Nazima finally speaks, after another twenty minutes of sitting and thinking and waiting for something, it's to ask Tahj a question she wasn't expecting.

"What are you looking at?" She's whispering for some reason.

"Nothing." Tahj shakes her head. "Should we go back inside? It's late, and freezing."

"You really don't want to talk?" Nazima asks.

Tahj shakes her head, squints hard at the shape that once was there but isn't anymore, shakes her head again. "No. We should go inside."

"Okay." Nazima stands and stretches her legs, brushing off sand and snow alike. "Let's go."

"Let's go."

The ride up to their room is quiet. Nazima stands a little closer than she needs to, and Tahj doesn't step away. When they step off the elevator her eyes burn from the excessively bright, artificial light. They adjust quickly enough. They walk down the hallway, steps thudding hollowly on the carpet. When they come up to their door Tahj turns around.

"Thanks, Nazima." Tahj pauses.

"You can call me Nani, you know. Everyone else does." Nazima smiles.

"Thanks, Nani."

They go inside.

Izziah is lying on their bed scrolling across her phone with bored finger. Her eyes brighten when she sees them.

"Why'd you guys disappear? I was going to start a one-man search team to look for you."

"We were at the beach," Tahj says and walks over to the bed. Nazima closes the door.

"That's an odd thing to do," Izziah says, watching Nazima briefly as she goes into the bathroom and the door closes, before staring directly at Tahj and nodding. "Which makes sense because it's you."

"Which makes sense because it's you," Tahj mocks her with an ugly face. "Shut up. What do you know?"

"Nothing apparently because my best friend was getting frisky with her tutor right under my bed and I was none the wiser."

"Shut up." Tahj pushes her leg when Izziah snorts in amusement. "We weren't getting frisky. I kissed him. That's it."

"You say it like that's not a big deal." Izziah rolls her eyes.

"It's isn't," Tahj says defensively.

"For you it is."

"What? Am I an alien or something? I'm not allowed to kiss a cute boy?"

"Oh!" Izziah pulls a face and pinches a hunk of Tahj's cheek, cooing. "My son has grown up. Already talking about kissing boys."

Tahj makes her own face and jerks her face away, standing. "Okay, one, I'm 17. Two, I'm not going to sit here and take this abuse." She walks over to the door.

"Where are you going?" Izziah asks from the bed. "To see your lover perhaps?"

"Get your genders straight," Tahj says in mock annoyance before closing the door behind her and walking a few doors down to Nathaniel and Mark's room. She hesitates and considers going back. He might be busy.

Mark makes the decision for her. He decides to open the door at that exact moment and smiles at her.

"Hey, Nathan," he says back into the room. "You have a visitor."

"Who?" a voice calls.

"Tahj," Mark says.

There is a thump and a grunt. "I'm naked!"

Tahj and Mark both laugh.

"I'm sorry for leaving you with that. But, I have a hot date with this idiot at the arcade." Mark pats her curls on his way down the hall.

"Okay. I'm decent."

Nathaniel is sitting on the double bed, smiling in this boyishly excited way that makes Tahj want to die.

"Hey." Nathaniel sets his phone down next to him and opens his arms. Tahj kicks hers shoes off and leaves them by the door, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge. Nathaniel looks cozy but Tahj can't bring herself to do it.

"This kid..."

Tahj squeaks even if she doesn't mean to when Nathaniel wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her further on to the bed. They collapse in the sheets. Nathaniel swings his good leg over Tahj's hip and anchors himself in that position. Tahj feels swaddled. She can't say that she hates it. Her neck warms and her stomach flutters.

"What did you do all this time?" Nathaniel asks.

"Nothing much." Tahj shrugs. "I talked to Nazima. She's cool."

"Yeah, she is. I've known Nani for...three years now? She's chill, and a great listener."

"Mm."

More silence.

A thought occurs to Tahj as they're lying there.

She attempts to say something when apprehension holds her tongue captive.

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

She resists the urge to whine when Nathaniel dislodges his leg and and lets Tahj roll on her back because what is she, a doll? Nathaniel rests one hand on her stomach, provoking all types of squishy emotion to erupt within Tahj body, and props his cheek on the knuckles of the other. He blinks at her in curiosity, not prying but not allowing for Tahj to escape either.

"What are you thinking?" Nathaniel pats her stomach, unrelenting. He doesn't look like he'll give up.

"Does it hurt?" Tahj asks finally.

"What?" Nathaniel looks more intently at her, confusion now mixed in with the passion. "Does what hurt?"

Tahj hesitates. She doesn't know if she's going too far. What if it's too personal? Does she even have the right to ask something like...?

"Does what hurt?" He repeats gently.

"Your...?" Tahj motions downward, towards his foot, or prosthetic. Nathaniel's eyes follow. It's the first time Tahj has seen him look so burdened, conflicted.

"I'm sorry if that wasn't okay or-"

"No, no, it's just that, no one has ever asked me about it besides my family."

"Was that rude?" Tahj gasps quietly. "I didn't mean to-"

"T." Nathaniel chuckles. Even if it is her being delusional she thinks she can detect affection in his voice. Regardless if she is deluding herself, she enjoys the moment. "I've never really told anyone so there was no one to ask. You're fine."

"You really don't have to answer."

"Stop that." Nathaniel breathes out a tight, only slightly amused laugh. Tahj nods. "Don't worry like that. You can ask me anything you want. If it really is over the line then I'll let you know, promise. But don't feel so scared to ask me something you're curious about. Just ask, and I'll take care of the rest, okay?"

Tahj nods again, sighing a little.

"When I was a in junior high I played soccer. I told you, remember?"

Tahj nods for the third time. "Yeah, I remember."

"Right." Nathaniel chuckles, humorless, eyes no longer staring into Tahj's but roaming, neither here nor there. "I was supposed to carry on the Im legacy. I wasn't anyone special, not like my dad was when he was my age or my grandfather before him. But I could kick and block a ball, even run a little. I'd be a spitting image of my dad if he had half of his skill tied behind his back. That was me."

"Was your dad mad?" Tahj asks.

"Not really." Nathaniel shakes his head. "He was just so happy that I'd decided to play. He kinda hoped my older sister would want to. He had nothing against girls playing like some of the other dads. But, she wanted to study design instead. So he took what he could get. Anyway, one day I was supposed to be going to practice. I usually walked. It was really sunny that day so I turned it into a little stroll, went a little slower than normal."

Tahj notices the strain in Nathaniel's voice. She gathers whatever thin courage she has and takes the hand Nathaniel has on her stomach. She holds it, stroking the knuckles with her thumb. Nathaniel pauses at this. His eyes find Tahj's again and he smiles a little, gaze still cloudy and sad, for some reason.

"...I was just walking, and this car came flying down the street. I gave some space between me and the street because I," his voice wavers, "I didn't expect him to run over the curb like he did. The next thing I knew I was on the ground, bleeding, and in pain. I was there probably for half an hour before some lady jogged by and called 911. I was in too much pain to even get to my phone, and it was just in my pocket but still..."

"Nathan."

"My foot hurt so bad, T." Nathaniel's eyes water, lips tremble. Tahj is so confused and unsure of herself when she puts Nathaniel's hand against her chest, right over her heart. It just feels really important, and the way he stares at it for a few seconds, eyes dragging up to Tahj's face afterward, she thinks it was a good idea. Important and all.

"I found out at the hospital that during that time my foot had caught an infection and we could either go through a long, expensive surgery with low success rates, or just get it amputated." His breath hitches sadly. Tahj thinks a piece of him breaks. Nathaniel's scratchy and thick voice pokes a hole in her soul and creates a vacuum where all of the oxygen in her body is being sucked into. "My dad insisted that it was alright and me being okay was the most important thing. But you should've seen his eyes. He lost his dream that day. Our relationship isn't the same now. He acts--acts like he lost his son when I'm right here. I'm always right h-here."

"Nathan."

"I'm right here, T. Why can't he see that? I'm right-"

"Nathan," Tahj says again, this time louder and more assertive, as if she doesn't feel just as weak as Nathaniel looks. He stops talking abruptly, looking into Tahj's eyes more urgently than he ever has. He's looking for something, searching desperately for it. She wishes she knew what he was looking for so she could give it to him and make everything better. Tahj doesn't have a clue what to do with herself and she certainly is at a loss for words, actions, and thoughts right now. So she does the only thing she can think of.

She scoots closer, tipping his chin up all the while, and kisses him with every sliver of understanding she can muster. She pours all of the things she can and can't grasp the meaning of into the cock of her head and the press of her lips. Thier mouths happen to slot perfectly against each other. Whether that's a coincidence or not Tahj doesn't have the time or capability to fret about. The only thing that matters is that Nathaniel is hurting and Tahj is trying to comfort him the only way she knows how. She's never been good with words anyway.

"T," Nathaniel whispers against her mouth and runs his hands blindly across Tahj's shoulders, sliding one onto the back of her neck The bottled energy in Nathaniel's body leaks into Tahj ruthlessly. She experiences the sweet and savory shock of pleasure all the way down to her ankles. Her core is vibrating. Nathaniel is warm and smells like home. He always has.

Tahj remembers that she has to close her eyes eventually. The darkness intensifies the sensation of Nathaniel stroking her neck.

They part with a strange, soft squish. Tahj is too emotionally charged to breathe correctly. Her breaths come out in jagged puffs. She's melted, utterly.

"I'm sorry for all of this," Nathaniel groans, winded. "I should have...should have-"

"Whenever you want to talk," Tahj leans up to kiss him, briefly, and settles back again, " just talk."

"I will," Nathaniel promises.

The two of them stay like that. It's warm. It's nice. Tahj's body responds appropriately. She falls asleep easily.

Tahj wakes up on her side. Her eyes slide open, blinking curiously in the dark. Her bones are satiated with heat. She's the most comfortable she has ever been. Nothing seems out of place. Even Mark's snoring, quiet yet full of bass, has a place in the early morning.

Nathaniel's chest rises and falls underneath Tahj's cheek. She couldn't be more comforted.

"I never answered your question."

Tahj melts when Nathaniel speaks. His voice is deeply rich, and cavernously low.

"What question?"

"It doesn't hurt, anymore. It used to throb. But since they sewed up the wound it grew some extra layers of skin. It's really tough now. Doesn't hurt."

"Is it hard?" Tahj asks. "Do you need help?"

"It's mostly frustrating," Nathaniel says. "I got used to it, though."

"Oh." That's it.

"Yeah."

As the two are lying there, snuggled and content, the sun rises slowly outside of the balcony doors, blinds undrawn, and musky indigo explodes in bright peach and gold. The birds would be chirping now if they weren't all squawking it up in some tropical region away from the depression of winter.

Mark stops snoring. His hair is insufferably mussed when he turns over in his bed, before sitting up a little and looking around through heavily lidded eyes.

"Is it morning already?"

"Sure is, buddy," Nathaniel says.

"I was going to give you two some space and sleep with Khun. But Jackson snores like a bear. Couldn't do it." Mark sits up the rest of the way languidly, stretching.

"You're not too much better," Nathaniel says.

"Nonsense. I sleep light as a prince."

"Sure you do, man."

Tahj pulls her phone from under the pillow she's lying on and blinks at the brightness.

7.38am.

"I'm gonna go back," she mumbles, still mostly sedated with sleep.

"Alright. We're having breakfast in a little bit. Can you bring the girls?" Nathaniel kisses her forehead sweetly.

"Sure." Tahj smiles lazily. She gets up reluctantly. She waves at Mark who waves halfheartedly back, still looking lost and sleepy. Tahj grabs her shoes on the way out and walks barefoot down the hall to her room. She pats her jeans expectantly and isn't surprised to find that she doesn't have her room key. Izziah distracted her.

She knocks on the door and waits.

Something creaks faintly underneath the weight of someone and the sound of feet shuffling across carpet alerts Tahj further. She tightens her grip on her shoes.

Nazima opens the door.

"Morning, Nani."

"Good morning." She blinks sleepily and steps out of the way. Tahj walks in and heads for her suitcase. She pulls out another pair of jeans, a violet sweater, and some clean underwear. She heads into the bathroom while Nazima goes back to bed.

She turns the light, wincing at the brightness. Complimentary stuff is already laid out. Tahj swipes a towel and a bar of soap that smells like roses on steroids. She hops into the steaming shower and scrubs lightly. Her eyes neatly glaze over the fresh bruises snaking up her thighs and forearms. She was too caught up yesterday. She'll be more careful from now on.

As if all of her careless is making a grand show of catching up with her, her nose springs a leak as soon as she steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around her dripping body. She groans. Frustration swells in her. Why here? Why now?

Tahj resignedly stuffs tissue paper up her nose and runs the faucet so she can rinse the blood from her face. She spends the next twenty minutes moisturizing, pulling her hair into a bun, and dressing, periodically pulling out the tissue paper to check the progress and replacing the soiled paper with fresh pieces.

She spends at least five minutes after that just sitting on the closed toilet lid and waiting for her body to stop betraying her. When it finally decides that she's had enough for the morning, Tahj is able to clean her face thoroughly after that, re-moisturize, and sanitize everything her blood has touched with some paper towels and disinfectant spray she finds underneath the sink.

This majorly sucks, but at least she brought her baby easel. Maybe painting will relieve some stress, or maybe it'll add onto it if it's just going to be one of those days. Tahj doesn't care right now. She's just hungry and tired and just a little frustrated as well. She goes back out into the room in some clean socks, tiptoeing over to her suitcase near the window. She pulls the blinds over just the tiniest bit to shed some light into the dark room so she can rummage through her things with some efficiency. She unearths her portable easel quickly, putting in into her Pokemon backpack with some paints, a few brushes, and a water bottle.

Tahj goes over to where Izziah is facedown and possibly drooling on the bed. Her hair is a mix between a halo and a bird's nest around her deeply slumbering form. Tahj almost feels horrible waking her up.

Almost.

She bends down and lifts a portion of brown from her face, blowing into her ear. Izziah jerks. Tahj holds in her laugh as Izziah slowly comes to.

"Get up, loser. We're going to breakfast." Tahj smacks her behind for good measure.

"I hate you." Izziah groans.

"Yeah, yeah."

Breakfast is less painful.

Tahj has found a sort of peace within the chaos. She blocks out the people flowing around them by laying her head on Nathaniel's shoulder and chewing on bites of pancake. It's strangely reminiscent of bran cereal. Disgusting, but also distracting. Tahj has found what works for her. She has never been keen on larges groups. When she has to collaborate, however, she applies a system that always works: dissection.

One step at a time and all that jazz.

Mark is down, Nazima is down. The only ones left are Kuhn and Jackson.

It's definitely less painful because she has associated herself with them to the point where she can be around them without being too on edge. And part of her fears come from saying something so embarrassingly incriminating that she'll have to shave her head and hitchhike to Alaska. Her solution? Not talking.

There is an odd comfort in surrounding herself with people who talk well because she doesn't feel any pressure to keep the conversation going. Those around her are all too eager to do that for her. She can just listen in, occasionally comment, and relish in the sweet bliss that comes from her system. If this is what socializing is like she thinks she would be able to handle it. The hard truth is that this isn't the whole picture. This sort of chemistry comes from years of understanding and a special group of people. Nathaniel is special and he surrounds himself with people who he can relate to and can care about and for. Or, at least that's what it looks like.

"They have a lounge here," Kuhn pipes up brightly. "I can hook up my XBox and slay everyone here in Fallout."

"Why does everything have to be a competition?" Jackson moans. "Can't we just be friends and do friendly stuff?"

"Aw, Jax. Don't be salty just because I laid your soul to rest in PacMan, and air hockey, and the ball toss, and-"

"Fine." Jackson stands up. "Let's go before I knock all of Mark's teeth out."

"Oh, yeah." Kuhn jumps up and runs for the elevator, probably to get his XBox, while Mark and Jackson head in the opposite direction towards a set of tinted doors where there is apparently a lounge.

"What are you up for?" Nathaniel asks Tahj.

"I was going to paint," she answers.

"You two?" Nathaniel asks Izziah and Nazima. They look at each other briefly before standing.

"I wouldn't miss this trainwreck for anything." Nazima says, waving as she walks in the direction of the lounge.

"I've got nothing better to do. Later, T." Izziah runs to catch up.

"Another day together then." Nathaniel seems endlessly happy about that. Tahj tries her best not to look too ecstatic. This is still very awkward and most definitely won't stop being that way for a while. She wants to say something all smooth like in romcoms where the lead female is all fiery but cute at the same time. Her mind goes blank. Nothing comes to her.

"Looks like it." That's the best she can do.

Tahj came prepared with her coat. Nathaniel has to go back to his room to get his. They agree to meet on the deck. Tahj zips her coat up to her neck and pulls up her hood. She waits on the deck as promised.

The day is bitterly cold. The sky is a sad blue-grey mix. But that in itself is so beautiful that Tahj is itching to get a brush in her hands. Lethargic waves swell up and crash onto the shore as a sort of invitation. The white, frothy tips linger a short time on the sand.

Tahj can't wait. She plops right there on the deck and unloads her supplies. She sets the paints, water bottle, and brushes out. She's grateful that she thought to bring the thin-tipped ones because they will fit in the mouth of the water bottle. She sets out her baby easel and adjusts the legs to a comfortable height, not too low, not too high.

She also pulls out a pair of skinny, black gloves that will serve as some sort of protection from the cold. She only remembered last minute and had to grab the ones in the desk near the door so they could beat traffic (not that it worked). Regardless, here she is. Hopefully she can get in a few hours before her fingers start to seize up from the cold.

Nathaniel comes back some time during her trying to find a suitable mix between black and white to color the waves. He has his big fluffy coat hanging off his shoulders and a basket of something.

"Figured we could make it a date." He pulls his coat on right and zips it up.

Why does the word 'date' make her squirm?

"Okay." He can't see her ears changing colors, right?

"A sweet for my sweet?" A de-tipped strawberry pops into her vision and distorts her view of grey on white. She follows the arm up to Nathaniel's happy face. He wiggles it a little. Tahj takes a deep breath and opens her mouth. He sets the strawberry on her tongue, tapping her chin afterward and setting to work unwrapping something else. Tahj just tries not to die as she chews the strawberry and mixes more colors.

After fifteen minutes have passed like this, Nathaniel feeding her and Tahj pausing to simultaneously have a heart attack and eat, she finally crinkles her nose once she reaches her limit of hand-fed fruits. Nathaniel pouts at this, but he gets over it quickly. He then hands Tahj a grape and she takes it curiously. She almosts puts it in her own mouth when Nathaniel stops her and points to his own open mouth.

"You're a child," she says finally. She laughs still.

She has to feed him to get him to stop pouting.

By the time Mark, Jackson, and Kuhn come scrambling from the glass doors, Tahj only has some grey and white on her paper. She's content, though. The boys run off onto the sand and begin wrestling around.

"Be right back." Nathaniel jostles Tahj's shoulders thoughtfully before running after them. He looks like a big kid. Tahj feels warm just looking at them. It gets better when Izziah and Nazima come out minutes later and sit next to Tahj. This is what it feels like to be surrounded and happy. She could get used to this.

They run around on the beach until the sky darkens and forces them to go inside for dinner. The menu is more appetizing. Tahj has some pizza and corn, not exactly healthy, per say, but delicious nonetheless. Tahj relaxes even more, even laughs at Jackson's tasteless jokes and Mark's progressive insults. They seem like a lovely pair.

"Let's do something fun," Kuhn says around a mouthful of food. He swallows. "I brought a Ouija board."

"No, thanks." Nazima shakes her head with a frown. "I like living just fine."

"You're not going to die." Kuhn stresses. "Whoever's in come to my room after. Okay?"

"I'm not going," Nazima says strongly.

Dinner ends at around ten. The employees have to physically escort Mark and Jackson from the table because they get into an argument about (what else?) games when the rest are finishing up their plates. They go back to their rooms.

Tahj takes a quick shower as soon as she gets to the room. She puts on some jammies after and sits on the bed with her phone, waiting with Izziah while Nazima shower. When Nazima is done, Izziah goes in after her. She's excited by this point. She's comfortable, happy, not particularly ready to have her soul harvested by spirits, but she's still excited.

Tahj squints at the numbers on her phone.

11.46pm. She hopes they're not done.

"We should go," she says. Nazima stares at her like she's changing colors.

"I like living," she stresses every word. "There's no way I'm going. You don't know Kuhn well enough yet. He's literally insane. Child has issues. I'm not fooling around in any of his Thai black magic."

"It's just a game," Tahj laughs incredulously.

"To you, maybe." Nazima shakes her head. "He's mental. And I have classes on Monday I need to be alive to go to."

"I'm really having fun here. This is the last night," Tahj says, begging. Nazima looks at her. Her eyes search briefly before she groans, face scrunching up.

"Fine."

"Thank you, thank you." Tahj hops onto the other bed and hugs Nazima into the mattress.

"I hate this."

"You're having a cuddle party without me? I'm hurt."

Tahj releases Nazima so she can turn around. Izziah is just coming out of the bathroom in sweats and a tank top. She climbs off the bed and digs around in her suitcase to find some socks.

"We're getting our souls sucked out of our bodies. You down?" Tahj asks from the floor.

"Sure. Why not?"

Izziah, Tahj, and Nazima walk down together and knock on the door. Mark opens it with a toothy smile.

"Look who joined the party." Mark steps out of the way.

The chairs have been pushed to the wall and the boys are in a circle on the floor beside the bed. Just the sight of the board creeps the hell out of Tahj. The dark sparkle in Kuhn's eyes should give them a hint that he's enjoying this to the utmost. She sits anyway, and tugs Nazima down.

"Welcome, ladies." Kuhn nearly cackles. "Who's ready to have their spiritual energies tampered with?"

"Not me." Nazima's getaway is thwarted by Jackson pulling her by the arm and she plops back on the ground, legs crossed and face deeply troubled. "If I get my soul molested by spirits I'm so coming back to haunt the living crap out of all of you. Watch."

"Oh, hush." Kuhn rolls his eyes. "Now, everyone hold hands and repeat after me."

They listen to Kuhn's facilitation for about twenty minutes while nothing actually happens. Nazima freaks out at one point because the glass thingy jerks to the left out of nowhere, but only because Jackson and Mark are fabricating some plot to "make her pee his pants".

It's working.

The night deepens and no one is actually shaken up by anything besides Nazima. She looks absolutely petrified. Tahj has to admit it's pretty funny to watch a grown woman pushed almost to tears, even if she does feel quite bad as well.

"I'm tired." Kuhn yawns after some time, apparently sick of his goal of spooking Nazima, which must have been far too easy for his liking.

"Bedtime."


	8. VII

After a general consensus is reached to meet up at eight to have breakfast before they leave everyone separates. Nathaniel kisses Tahj on the forehead, an action to which everyone 'ooh's and she feels like dying.

She doesn't dream. It's nice.

She wakes up in the morning feeling cold on the side that's uncovered by the sheet and blazingly hot on the side that Izziah is snuggled up to, muzzle smashed in Tahj's shoulder. Tahj carefully peels Izziah's arm from around her torso and slides out of bed, replacing her presence with an extra pillow. Izziah doesn't move.

The second she steps onto the freezing tile of the bathroom her entire body vibrates with a shiver. She hurriedly turns the shower on hot and goes back into the room to get some clothes and toiletries, following the same routine as the last few days: drag suitcase over to the window, pull a corner up to let sun shine in, get stuff. Except, this time it's a little different. A folded paper, the stiff kind she normally uses, is laying on top of everything. She takes it curiously, unfolds it, and smiles as a warm, prickly feeling makes her cringe and swoon at the same time.

Her unfinished painting of grey on blue is now a sea of love, as the juvenile hearts would suggest. A stick image of Tahj and Nathaniel (she's assuming here, he's really bad, but it's still cute) takes up most of the page, with a poem tucked in the corner that goes 'roses are red, violets are blue, i love you'.

Adorable.

Tahj keeps her hushed squealing to a minimum.

She folds the paper again and puts it in a separate pocket inside her suitcase. She thinks about it all while she showers, while she waits for Izziah and Nazima to shower, and on the elevator ride down as well. The boys have reserved a few tables nearest to the red velvet rope that borders the lobby and the dining area, closest to the windows that show a view of snow, white-dusted cars, and residential buildings opposite the pension.

She sits at a table with Izziah and Nazima.

They eat quickly after that, pack, and leave separately in order to beat some form of traffic. Chances are they will get stuck in it all the same anyway.

Tahj saves Nazima's number in her phone and promises she'll keep in touch.

This time around Izziah crawls into the backseat and shuts the door on her side, definitely so Tahj won't follow her. Tahj pulls a face and sits in the front regardlessly of her friend's antics. She was planning on it since this morning.

Nathaniel is still saying goodbye.

"What's the deal with you two?" Izziah bumps Tahj's seat with her something. "You don't think you can get a boyfriend without my permission, do you?"

"Too late," Tahj says. "The deed is done."

"Ohh, Tahj. This is a first. My girl's growing up."

"Whatever." Tahj shakes her head and commits herself to staring out of the windshield, waiting for Nathaniel to finish. He hugs all of them, says something that makes them break out into laughter, and then waves to them as he walks to the car.

They are on the interstate within ten minutes of driving.

Izziah falls asleep after another twenty minutes of holding a heavily one-sided conversation with Nathaniel about why she thinks he should hook her up with Mark.

Tahj is just sitting, wide awake and bored, when she feels eyes on her face. So she turns to Nathaniel and he looks away the moment her eyes meet his. This happens multiple times before she's really conscious of what's happening. She's actually catching him staring.

It's kind of exciting. Tahj can't understand why she deserves this type of attention. She's not sure what about her makes Nathaniel want to stay and call her beautiful. Maybe it's in fact the money and that this is his job; to babysit her for a month or two. And, yeah, Tahj probably shouldn't be getting so attached. Though, she can't lie and say that it isn't exhilarating to discover herself through Nathaniel. There is a possibility that she can understand why he finds Tahj to be everything she's sure she is not: interesting, important, worthy.

Those looks mean something. Probably.

Tahj is still awake after an hour. She's too charged up to close her eyes for even a minute. It's just Tahj and Nathaniel left in the thick of the average rush hour traffic, except it's snowing heavily, borderline storming. The radio is on low, echoing back her thoughts in the form of some sappy, love tune she's too embarrassed to switch off.

Nathaniel drops Izziah off at her house and she walks inside, though not before she gets a chance to wink, none too discreetly, and Tahj is too nervous that Nathaniel will notice to pop her friend in the mouth.

***

Tahj's dad decides it will be a nice idea to tell her that he'll be away for another week and that he's going to wire money into her bank account. Half is for home expenses and the other half is for Nathaniel.

"You don't seem too upset, squirt." He's pouting, definitely. "You're not throwing any wild parties, are you?"

Tahj laughs because she and her dad both know that she can't stand noise and fuss. It's a joke, it's supposed to be funny. She laughs.

Late nights are like a blessing and a curse Tahj doesn't know what she did to earn. She can't sleep, but that's not new. She sits at her window nook and stares up at the bright, round moon. With her sketchbook in one hand and a pencil in the other she draws whatever comes to mind.

Unsurprisingly, a soft face with a long, long, nose she didn't inherit and muddled features appear after some time. Tahj continues because she has nothing better to do.

It's strange how someone she can't be more disconnected with is ruling her subconscious in a way she's never thought of before. Who is this women, and why does she want to wreck her so badly? Her dad has raised her just fine to this point and yet she can't keep herself from wondering about her.

What lullaby did she sing to her at night? Did they ever go on a family vacation to a beach? Did she yell at her to put on sunscreen before her back shrivelled up and scarred?

Did she ever love her?

Late nights are like a blessing and a curse because Tahj has no filter. Her brain is in sleep mode while her body alive and well. She's thinking while barely conscious of the thoughts that pop into her mind. Nothing sticks. It's all a fuzzy way to pass the time until she physically and mentally exhausts herself, only then being able to sleep. That's what would usually happen. Tonight is different.

Tahj stands from the window nook, discarding her sketchbook and pencil on the way to the door. She scrambles over some things in the dark. She eventually makes it to the hallway, though. It's unapologetically lightless. She picks her way through the shadows to reach her dad's room. She turns the doorknob and cracks the door open, cringing when it emits a high-pitch whine.

Moonlight paints some of the carpet in pale grey and the rest is left invisible. A bedside table jumps out at her as she makes her way to the bed. She lets loose a squeal and stumbles back.

"Tahj?"

Nathaniel's voice relieves some of the pain. Tahj nods, then realizes he can't see and answers in a strained whisper.

"Yeah."

"Can't sleep?"

"Mhm."

"C'mere."

Tahj doesn't hesitate to climb in beside Nathaniel and curl up in him. She revels in the warm security she feels when she lies her head on the man's chest. The thought of this being absent terrifies her.

This week is special for several reasons.

One is that Tahj sticks closer to Nathaniel than she ever has. Something about the passing days feel like a tangible security quickly slipping through her fingers. Soon all she'll have left is an empty spirit spindling like thread through her heavy hands.

Tahj is still in high school. Or, at least, she's of high school age. She'll have to go somewhere to take her SAT on a day specially administered for homeschooled kids. Then she'll have to start applying for colleges. It's what everyone will expect. Everything about the future is scary. Maybe that's why she's clinging on so desperately to Nathaniel. In a week's time they'll both be busy. Tahj with her school and Nathaniel with his as well, plus tutoring.

Another reason why she can't get enough of this security, this physical assurance, is that she can feel change in the air. She can't really describe the feeling. All she knows is that Nathaniel's going back home and her dad's coming back is important in some way.

Her nose bleeds twice that week.

She finds a purple bruise on her thigh and tries to remember where it came from. The possibilities are so vast that she gives herself a headache.

On Thursday, Tahj decides to take a bath after dinner. She rarely takes baths as they make her nauseous. They also force her to think. Usually, they aren't happy thoughts. But she is inspired to take one after she finds that her nails are dirty and washing them doesn't get them clean enough.

She pours some soap into the hot water, sitting on the closed toilet lid while she waits for the tub to fill up. She turns off the water when it's almost going to overflow and gets in.

She waits.

Once the bubbles clear and Tahj is staring through the filmy water at shadows of contusions and her pale brown legs, her spine digs into the porcelain of the tub and she sighs. The bruises will go away, they always do. Then they'll come back, they always do. When she closes her eyes to block out the images they become worse; vivid colors and harsh shapes assault what should be her undisturbed darkness. Her body feels crowded even when she's so utterly alone.

"Don't forget to wash behind your ears, hun," her mother's voice sings to her as Tahj scrubs the little crevices of her face, squishing soap between them and rinsing methodically. She sinks further into the water, allowing the tip of her nose to float while the rest of her soaks. Watching soiled water drip down her fading bruises makes up a large percentage of the time she spends taking baths. Whatever is left usually consists of her either crying or staring into space.

Nathaniel knocks at some point, asking if she's okay.

Of course she says that she is. The door is locked and he'll never know.

A week passes in the blink of an eye.

Tahj sleeps with Nathaniel the night before her dad comes home.

She feels a terrible sense of urgency when he holds her, like they'll never see each other again.

"You're so tense." Nathaniel moves his hand from Tahj's shoulder to her head, lightly stroking her hair. "What are you thinking?"

Tahj sniffs, head pillowed on the man's forearm and eyes quietly searching his in the dark. She wants to cry because she's feeling too many emotions. Nathaniel might like her and Tahj definitely likes him back and in a nice world they could've worked out. But, her dad is coming home tomorrow and Nathaniel is leaving and their story that's only half-written will end there. There's no way Nathaniel will still want her after he doesn't have to spent day after day with her. Whatever spell that's cast on him to blind him of all of Tahj's flaws will lift and he'll come back to his senses.

Tahj does not want him to go, but he will.

He can't go.

Don't go.

"I won't."

She snaps her lips shut and quietly curses.

"Baby."

Tahj melts. Her bones liquify and there is nothing left of her besides skin stretched over a tangle of nerves, all buzzing and red-hot.

"Don't call me that," she whines. "You're just going to leave anyway."

"I promise I won't leave. Can't you just trust me?"

Can she?

"What can I do to make you trust me?"

For someone who struggles to trust herself, she doesn't have an actual answer. As much as she tries to push it out of her mind, it won't go.

"Just hold me," Tahj whispers finally, after having decided that thinking so much hurts her eyes. She closes them and sinks heavily into Nathaniel's embrace. She's going to miss this.

The dream she has after falling asleep is weird. Plain and simple.

Someone is bleeding. A bed materializes in the middle of a dark room before bursting into flames and drowning in a sea that pops out of nowhere. She might be on it, but she can't be sure.

She wakes in the middle of the night to a dark room and a peacefully slumbering Nathaniel. She really doesn't want to go back to sleep. Her body is tired, though. She can't control it.

The next nightmare she has makes much more sense. More blood, except this time it has an identifiable source. Tahj is in the middle of a bright classroom. Her head is disproportionately big and her hands are forever grabbing onto something she can't reach. A black shadow casts over her body as other kids approach to poke her exposed skin and laugh at the marks that blossom underneath their evil fingers. Sometimes they ripple and other times they swell large as apples before bursting.

It's been awhile since she's dreamed about her Hemophilia. School sucks. Kids suck. Being different sucks.


	9. VIII

Unsurprisingly, Tahj doesn't hear from Nathaniel for a month or so. Flowers are sprouting in the dark corners of her heart and she has no one to share it with because April is National Exam Month. About every student across the world, college or not, is bashing their brains out studying for tests. Tahj shouldn't feel disappointed; she predicted this.

Sure, Nathaniel sends the occasional text that says something like 'good morning, beautiful' with a string of hearts. But, a cheesy text doesn't come close to hearing his voice or seeing his face which Tahj misses so badly. Their relationship is coming to a slow, terrible end and nothing in the world ever hurt so much.

***

"T." Her dad doesn't bother knocking when he comes into the room. His "#1 pops" apron is wrinkled and only hanging onto his body because of the neck strap. The strings around his waist aren't tied. He looks more tired than Tahj remembers.

"We have a guest."

Tahj has the strangest feeling that her dad looks like a ghost, or, at least like he's seen a ghost. The lines around his eyebrows are creased more deeply than usual.

"What guest?" Tahj asks, dabbing the tip of her paintbrush into a cup of murky water before letting go and allowing it to sink into the cup on its own accord. Her eyes are still trained on her dad's, trying to piece together a puzzle where the pieces fit somewhat but not exactly.

"I think you should see for yourself." Her dad's chest stutters visibly. Tahj doesn't need to see anymore. She stands from her easel and follows her dad out into the hallway. White light from the sun spills through the open blinds, illuminating the living room as they walk down the stairs. The upstairs seems dark in comparison. Tahj follows closely behind, hardly believing that she actually has to squint because, damn, it's bright.

"Crap." Her dad nearly trips over a step, and Tahj catches the crook of his elbow just in time before he goes stumbling down the rest of the steps. Her dad looks back up at Tahj seeming abashed and confused. He smiles gently.

"Thanks, pumpkin."

"Dad, are you okay?"

"Fine, fine. Just-" He doesn't finish the rest, just pats Tahj's hand so she can let go. She does. The stairs have a small landing where the direction turns from straight to crooked, where a few steps are left before reaching the living room.

Her dad advances on but Tahj stays put.

A woman is sitting on the couch in front of the television, someone Tahj could point out of a crowd any day yet has no relation to whatsoever. Her long, black hair is pressed and shining in the midday sun. She's tanner than Tahj remembers, though. And she's less luminescent. Her eyes aren't glowing red, either. Just a clear brown. She looks like a regular person.

The only thing that's weird is that she is sitting in their living room and not dancing into the ocean like she's seen so many times over.

The words sits on the tip of her tongue, not daring to slip out.

She doesn't want you.

Then, why is she here?

The woman notices her standing there. She smiles meekly. She flashes her dad a careful, apologetic look before standing and walking up to Tahj. The teen finds her legs moving without her brain telling them to.

She's also shorter than Tahj remembers. The top of her head is level with her chin.

"Tahj." The woman's eyes are full of scary emotion. What if Tahj's eyes are like that, too?

If she doesn't want me, why is she here?

"I missed you," her voice cracks on the words, and her lips are trembling. The teen nods solemnly.

"It's been so long since I've seen you. You've gotten so big, my pretty girl."

She nods again, flinching internally.

Then they just stare at each other. Tahj wonders where her mother has been all these years to just show up now, out of blue, with this expectant look on her face like she's supposed to jump into her arms and pick up where they left off.

Who does she think she is?

You never wanted me.

"You left," Tahj says, anger rising in the pit of her stomach the same way it rises in her voice, unconscious but powerful all the same. "You snuck away in the middle of the night and...just left. You didn't call, or even write."

"I'm sorry," she says. Tahj is blind to the regret in the woman's voice as her own gets louder and less stable.

"It's been well over ten years. I always thought there was something wrong with me. I thought I was a crappy daughter and that's why you didn't want to stay. Why are even back?" she chokes out the words around the sobs rattling in her throbbing chest. Her face is hot and her eyes are blurry from the unshed tears and everything hurts but she can't think of a way to express herself. So, like a gigantic baby, she starts to cry.

"Tahj..."

Skinny arms wrap around her middle and take hold. Tahj doesn't want some stranger touching her like this. She barely wants her dad to see her blubbering like the toddler she is, unable to stop the tears even if she really wants to.

"Tahj."

And just like that, as if an arctic wave crashes against her senses she wrangles himself out of the woman's grip and steps back. Her chest is still heaving and her eyes are wet, red, and trained directly on hers. She shakes her head.

"Why did you leave?"

"Tahj, please."

"I waited 10 years."

"Tahj." Her dad's voice catches her off-guard, uncharacteristically strict. "Just sit and hear her out."

"But, dad-" she immediately protests.

"Babygirl."

Tahj freezes, is nearly shaking when she walks past her to the couch and sits, palms cupping her knees and spine rigid. The woman's small feet somehow produce a hollow thump on the hardwood. The teens starts, obvious, and large in stature despite the fact that she only shifts a little when she sits next to her. Her dad stays standing next to the blank television. He's crossing his arms and staring off somewhere.

Why doesn't he look angry? She left them. She just up and left and never took the time to write or-

"I'm sorry." The woman places her hand on Tahj's arm, ducking her head to catch Tahj's eyes. She glares at the woman. She does so unconsciously even if she isn't apologetic in the slightest for it. The soft, tired lines around her almond eyes cause Tahj to lighten up. She dips her squared shoulders a little, blinking until she probably looks less deadly.

She's still pissed, though.

The woman is looking at Tahj and she's looking at her and she can't help but draw out the features of her face that she's seen in himself in the mirror, frustrated to find that half of her physiognomical makeup is strange and unfamiliar to her. Her chest hurts now. She needs to cry again, but she won't. Probably.

"I couldn't take being here anymore. I had problems that I needed to sort out before I could raise two children. I was diagnosed with depression," she says, straight-faced and in severe contrast with Tahj who feels like she's just been run over by a freight train. The remnants of her frown evaporate into the air.

"I didn't want you to see me go through that." Tahj is fully aware of the pressure, how it shifts from her forearm to her hand. She would've looked down if the fresh tears glittering in the woman's eyes didn't have her warped.

Tahj frowns deeply. Her anger is competing with her compassion.

The battle is dizzying.

"It's mostly under control now."

She should be happy.

"That's good," she finally says, hesitating over the final word.

"Yeah." She sighs. "I'm better now. I missed you so, so much."

The woman hugs her. Tahj looks over at her dad, who's gone teary-eyed by now. The teen picks up her hands, stares at them for a solid minute, and then wraps them tentatively around the woman's waist, fingertips touching. She's so small, too small.

It's strange.

It's strange the sensation she feels when this woman hugs her, like she's known for for her entire life, when nothing can be farther from the truth. Maybe she should hate her. Maybe she does hate her. Maybe she has the right to ignore her until she leaves and never comes back. Or, are they worse than enemies who at least are obligated to feel something because of the other?

Are they strangers?

As strangers they should be able to have no emotional investment.

Biology says that Tahj is a piece of this woman, her apple, if you will. An apple that has rolled far away from the tree and taken root in another orchard.

Tahj is utterly confused. The hatred or indifference that she imagined she would feel should this situation ever come up is missing in the moment. Nothing but blankness fills her body. She should be happy or upset or something.

"I missed you." She squeezes her tighter. Tahj sits there.

"I love you."

What is she supposed to say?

"Uhm..."

Smooth.

The woman pulls back and stares at her closely. She looks like every nightmare Tahj has ever had. Except, the difference? She's awake this time. The fuzzy edges unconsciousness provides are missing. She's too sober to be dealing with this. This can't be real. Her mother is a faraway lady dancing in faraway seas, her hair blowing wild around her thin, pixie-like face. She would pinch herself to check, if only this woman--her mother, weren't gripping her hands for dear life and making her feel like some sort of artifact freshly picked off a shelf and dusted off after years of idleness. It isn't nostalgia, but something more bitter that she can't control.

"I'm going to, uh-" Tahj stands, disconnecting their hands and backing toward the stairs. She raises her hands in efforts to make coherent sentences. Unfortunately, everything coherent fails her and she ends up turning away and briskly walking, nearly running, up to her room. She just barely has enough energy to close the door and make it to her bed.

"What the hell?" Tahj breathes shallowly into her pillow and bites her lip, daring for a sob to come out. None does. She's happy to share this bit of information. Though, she's very unhappy to share that the reason she doesn't cry is because she's so frustrated that anger translates to fear to sadness to confusion so quickly that her body is conflicted. She laughs dryly at some points because the entire situation is so ridiculous and like nothing she could've imagined.

She is truly going to lose her mind.

Her dad comes in some time later. She focuses in her haze for long enough to feel his presence, hear the click of her bottle of meds on her desk, and then she's gone again when he leaves.

It's possible that she sleeps because one moment she's tired all over, and the next she's rolling over on her bed. The screen on her phone tells her that's it's 7.39pm.

Tahj has no other choice but to sit upright and think straight. She stands up and takes a moment to stretch the kinks out of her body before walking over to her desk, turning on the lamp. She pulls her pad and a pen out of the drawer and flips to a fresh page. They're all yellowed at this point because she's had it since she was 14.

She puts ink to paper and sits there, bleeding a black hole through the first paper and well into the one behind it. Her mind is overrun with images of rainy nights and twirling pixies and why can't she keep herself from going insane? Her body is a maze of tension coiled so tight she nearly pops several blood vessels when her door opens.

"Tahj?" Her mother's voice is haggard. She may have been crying.

"Yes?" She doesn't turn around.

"Sweetie?"

Tahj takes a deep breath and turns around, meeting eyes with her in the semi-dark. Is her face glowing, or has Tahj really, truly lost it, again?

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry," her mother says.

"Don't be." Tahj turns around again. She picks up her pen and scribbles mindlessly. Her throat is closing up on her as the tears she refused are finally dawning.

"I never wanted to leave you and your brother," she says. Tahj nods. She gets hung up on the 'you and your brother' for a while, purposely used to say that she wanted to leave in the first place, just not Tah and Bennettj. But why?

She doesn't say anything.

Her mother keeps talking.

"I tried so hard to get better. For you. For Bennett. For all of us."

Her voice trembles, and Tahj's hands start to shake. Her chest is warm as well. She doesn't want to do this. Not right now. Not ever.

"I never stopped thinking about you. Not for one second. Not for even half that. I missed you every day. I savored every picture and every video your dad sent me. I missed you until I couldn't breathe."

"Stop, please." Tahj throws down the pen, shoves her pad aside, and lumbers across the room to her bed.

"I always loved you. I still do."

"I'm going to bed now." Tahj gets under the covers and lies her head down on the pillow, twisting to face the wall.

Her mother doesn't leave. She keeps talking.

"I told myself that you were doing well. That's the only way I could keep myself away and healthy. I told myself that you were doing well and that if I called it would ruin things for the both of us. I could only live with myself if you were doing well, sweetie. I didn't mean-"

A surge of powerful anger shocks her out of her own thoughts. Tahj sits up and throws the covers off her legs.

"What didn't you mean to do? To sneak off in the middle of the night?" Her breathing picks up.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. Or your brother. It would have been hard for all of us." Her mother steps closer.

"You're right," Tahj says, furiated. "It was hard. It was so hard at first that I stopped living after that. The kids hated me after I started hating myself. I almost bled out when a boy pushed me off the swing onto concrete and no one bothered to tell the teacher. Did you know that?"

"No, no. I-" she stutters.

"Of course you wouldn't know that. Because you weren't there. I've been homeschooled since first grade because it was dangerous for me to go to school. They could've easily done more damage and because of this...this disease you gave I wouldn't have even stood a chance."

Dammit, she's crying now.

"Honey, please-"

"It would have been better if you left?" Tahj scoffs and roughly wipes a tear from her cheek. She doesn't even care that she'll bruise. "That's a coward's excuse. We could have--I could have grown up with a mom. We could have helped you through whatever. You weren't being some hero when you abandoned your family without so much as calling or sending a dumb letter. You were being selfish. How am I supposed to forgive you?"

Her mother just stands there for a minute. Tahj can't see her entire expression as shadows paint it an ugly shade of indifference. She eventually is too tired to even sit up, so she lies back down and squeezes her eyes shut.

The door closes soon after. She hates herself a little because she's alone again, and it's her fault this time.

Tahj almost laughs when she stirs some time during the night. Of course she wouldn't be able to sleep. Not on a normal night, and definitely not on a night like tonight. She lies in bed with her phone pressed to her chest and thinks about who she has to call before she implodes. Her very first course of action is to calculate what time it is in California. Since it's 2.27am here, it should be around 11 or 12 there, late, but not ridiculously so. He's probably up studying or doing homework anyway.

Tahj is happy that's she's right when he picks up the phone after only two rings, sounding as fresh and awake as the morning dew.

"What's up, baby sister?" A smile is in his voice. Tahj's coughs to clear her throat as fresh emotion threatens to impede on what she is trying to do. She takes a second to contemplate how she should say it. She is still struggling to understand, so the long-winded version she could give him is still tumbling around in her head, stubborn and difficult.

Her next thought is to rip it off like a band-aid.

"She came back," she says vaguely.

"She?" Bennett says. "Who's she?"

"Mom, Ben. She...she's back." Her throat is tight again.

There is a long pause.

Bennett is still there because Tahj can hear his suddenly ragged breathing. He just isn't saying anything. When he finally does, it comes out in a rough tone. "What about dad?"

"He seems completely fine with it," Tahj say frustratedly. "Like, he doesn't look mad or anything. She left us and he was as cool as a cucumber. I didn't understand it. I still don't."

"Tell you what," Bennett says. "We have a break soon, in about a month. Hang in there until I get there. I'll call dad as well."

Tahj's voice drops without her being conscious of it. "You will? What about-"

"This is everyone's business. I don't have that leisure anymore. I'll talk to him. All you have to do is be strong until I'm there. Can you do that for me, squirt?"

"It's going to be hard."

"Paint, read, listen to some Stevie. Do all of the things you like. Before you know it, a month will have gone by and I'll be home. Okay?"

"Okay."

When the call is over Tahj lies awake in bed for a few minutes missing her older brother. She gets sleepy after a while, though.


	10. VIIII

Tahj was right; it is hard.

She can't look at her mother without being physically uncomfortable. She talks to Bennett on the phone more often because she needs someone by her metaphorical side. Spring is here but it doesn't feel fresh or happy. Everything is stuffy and tight, hot. It's painfully ironic.

Tahj is outside with her toes snug in the grass of their backyard when she gets a text from Nathaniel. She's technically a high school graduate. She still has to take the SAT, but since she finished earlier she has some time to relax. She isn't doing much relaxing, though. The text is welcome but unexpected. It's sad how quickly she gives up.

I'm coming to pick you up.

-Nathan

Tahj stares at the message glowing bright on her phone's screen. She analyzes it in an attempt to make sense of it. She rearranges the letters to check if they create some secret code, tries saying them backwards, and even holds the screen up to the dusty overhead light in her bedroom to reveal any extra letters. Nothing comes up. She's just gotten settled in her spring/summer routine: gaming, msg, attempting to do something productive, end up sitting at easel for two hours staring at a blank canvas, praying for a miracle, one not coming, sleeping, sort of.

And now this is happening.

Tahj hasn't seen Nathaniel's face in two months. They barely talk anymore. Nathaniel is busy and Tahj understands that. He's a culinary student working part-time as a tutor who doesn't get enough sleep. Tahj gets it. It would be easier for everyone if he stopped trying to convince Tahj she was special and ended the relationship. Tahj could stop dreaming, get real goals. Sure, she'd be heartbroken for a while, splash some grey splotches on a paper and call it grieving. But that's nobody's business other than her own.

Of course Tahj texts back 'k' and waits for her demise.

She showers and throws on some jean shorts, matching it with a short-sleeve graphic tee of a splattered tomato. She pulls her curls into a bun. She then goes downstairs to wait in front of the television looking like something other than death. Even if Tahj doesn't deserve him, Nathaniel is undoubtedly a positive influence.

"Are you going somewhere?" She hears the footsteps coming down the stairs before she hears the voice, lilting and careful. She turns when her mother is on the final step, coming to stand beside the couch. Tahj nods. She's hurting again

"I don't actually know where I'm going?" Tahj confesses truthfully. Her mother's brows crease and she cocks her head a little, confused.

"Someone is coming to pick me up," she elaborates.

"A friend?"

Tahj should be offended the way she sounds so taken back. It's valid shock, she supposes.

"Who happens to be a boy." She nods.

"A boyfriend?" her mother questions. It's Tahj's turn to look confused. It sounds normal put so simply. That's what Nathaniel is, right, her boyfriend? She again, a little more slowly, and her eyes dart quickly to the ground before they go back up.

"Yeah, he's my boyfriend."

"Have fun then."

"Okay."

She goes into the kitchen after that.

Nothing much has happened in the last couple of weeks. Tahj is over her anger. She is over her confusion as well. In general, she's just over it. There is a weird energy floating through the house. Whenever her and her mother cross paths the edges of their force fields have a very negative reaction and they end up repelling each other. Tahj fakes indifference while her mother looks genuinely hurt. And because Tahj isn't a robot, she feels bad. But not bad enough to run and jump into her arms like a three year old with her face shoved against a portal that never worked in her favor.

Twenty minutes later, a car pulls up in her driveway. Tahj can see through the big, square window behind the television, blinds undrawn. She considers waiting for Nathaniel to knock on the front door. She decides against it, though, because it would mean a bit of explaining, and awkward confrontations. Tahj pats her pants pocket for the familiar lump of her phone, and grabs a jacket out off the coat rack, flipping it over her shoulder. She opens the front door and steps out into the warm sunshine. The sky is blue. There's a warm breeze blowing across her cheeks. Anyone with a heart and soul can't be upset on a day like today. What makes it even better is that Nathaniel is here in the flesh.

Tahj walks up to the car. She opens the door and gets in, closing it back again.

"Hi." Tahj smiles at Nathaniel. She's swooning again, dammit. If Tahj thought Nathaniel looked good in sweaters it was obviously because she'd never seen him in a short-sleeve, plaid button up over a white tank top. All Tahj sees is red and muscle and, wow, her boyfriend looks good in anything. Blue jeans, vans, and a red snapback complete his whole 'disgustingly drop-dead gorgeous' look. That's not fair at all.

Nathaniel doesn't say anything for a little, just stares at Tahj until she has the overwhelming desire to curl up in a ball and disappear. His eyes are just as brown and just as warm as Tahj remembered them being.

"You're so beautiful, T." Don't blush. Don't die. Don't look stupid.

"Stop."

"I missed you so much, baby." Nathaniel cups Tahj's left cheek, stroking his thumb across the cool skin. "I'm sorry for not calling more. School bites."

"I missed you, too."

Tahj can't say anything (as if she actually could form words) before Nathaniel leans in, eyes closing, and kisses Tahj. She is stunned for long, whole, real seconds. She's excited and surprised at the same time. The man smells amazing. His other hand comes up to coddle Tahj's other cheek and he presses more insistently into her space. Her stomach is tingling and her throat is hot. Nathaniel is warm, so warm. He smells like home.

Nathaniel cocks his head, knocking his hat off, and pulling back to nibble at the Tahj's lower lip before pressing their lips together again. Tahj doesn't mean to whimper when she does but Nathaniel's hands snake down to her waist and she can't help that her hormones are activating. She doesn't know what comes over her, the haze, probably. She throws his arms over Nathaniel's shoulders and gathers her hand at the nape of his neck.

Heavy breathing and shallow clunking in the close quarters and noises from urgent tongues and lips are deaf on Tahj's ears; blood is pounding so ferociously in her head that she only has the capacity to focus on where Nathaniel is lying his hands on her.

"Nathan," Tahj breathes, breaking their kiss to breathe and gaze up Nathaniel. His vibrant, pink lips, pinched eyebrows, minutely bobbing adam's apple is a picture of perfection. Tahj doesn't know what she did to deserve him.

"Would you like to come back to my apartment?" Nathaniel asks, looking excited and happy in a way that sweeps Tahj off of her feet.

"Sure."

Nathaniel looks down for a second to retrieve his lost hat (which is between Tahj's thighs, whole other story) and then back up again. He settles the snapback over Tahj's viciously fluffed and messy hair (her loose hair tie popped off at some point), giving Tahj a quick kiss on the cheek that she savors for far too long.

Nathaniel's apartment is an hour drive away from Tahj's house, maybe forty-five minutes without traffic. The seclusion is bittersweet; on the one hand she's strangely thrilled that they have this privacy, and on the other she feels a little anxious because that doesn't leave her much room for escape.

She hasn't decided what she favors yet.

***

It's average.

Tahj lived in an apartment for a short period of time when her dad was in between jobs. It looks similar. There's a kitchen right off of the front door, a living room designed simply in beige and black, and a hallway to the left of the living room that houses three doors. One is skinner than the other two; probably a linen closet. A bathroom. A bedroom.

And above all, everything is clean. Tahj feared that beneath all of that obvious perfection Nathaniel was secretly a hoarder, or a cat lady. The first fear is debunked immediately, and the other is only tweaked when a pretty cat comes stalking sleepily from the opposite side of the couch. No others appear. Her snout, ears, tail, and paws are a dark burgundy while the rest of her body is ashy gray. She blinks up at Tahj with crystal blue eyes and releases a quiet meow.

"She's so cute," Tahj says fondly, bending down to rub behind the cat's ears.

"Her name is Nora," Nathaniel says.

"You're just a princess, aren't you?" she coos. Nora just stares. She must have Nathaniel's genes. 

"She's a rescue," Nathaniel says. Tahj pets Nora absentmindedly while bemoaning how perfect Nathaniel is. First, he tutors kids. Although he does get payed for it, it still takes a certain type of person to deal with hormonally imbalanced, moody teenagers like herself several days a week. Second, he has a rescue cat. Next thing that comes out of his mouth is that he financially sponsors a child in Uganda. She wouldn't put it past him.

"You want to meet Bo?" Nathaniel asks. Tahj stops petting Nora and looks up at Nathaniel like he's sprouting a third ear right before her eyes. No friggin' way.

"Uh, Bo," Nathaniel says, a little defensively, obviously confused by Tahj's expression of astonishment. "My ferret, Bo."

Tahj laughs all by herself, suspicions dispensed of. "Sure. Okay."

Apparently Tahj has never seen a ferret before. For some reason she imagined it looking like a small dog. It really looks like a cylinder of white fur and small, beady eyes. Tahj holds in a laugh as Nathaniel picks up the small, wriggling creature like it's gold.

"You like animals?" Tahj asks, moving closer to pat Bo on the top of his scraggly head.

"I love animals." Nathaniel smiles over at Tahj before returning his attention back to Bo with a big grin. "I have a collie named Hodge and a parakeet, Scamp. They're back at my parents' house because the apartment people limited me. They told me to choose my favorites. I told them to shove it. I almost got kicked out that day."

Tahj laughs. "You must really likes animals then."

"Yeah," Nathaniel says and looks at Tahj. "I came to America when I was ten. I could barely speak English and apparently I was a "stinky chink" as well. I'm Korean. Have always been. It's hard trying to explain that to a group of 4th graders, y'know. They said my lunch smelled, my eyes were too small, made fun of my accent."

"Really?" Tahj gasps quietly. Her chest pinches empathetically.

Nathaniel nods and take a very sad, shallow breath. "My parents hated to see me come home crying. So they got me a dog. My grandparents hated animals so I was never able to have one in Korea."

"Did it help?" Tahj asks.

"It did." Nathaniel runs his hands through Bo's fur. "It really did. People can be really cruel. Not animals, though. Animals work off a system of respect. I respected her and she respected me. I loved her and I think she loved me back. I finally had a friend. It was nice."

Nathaniel stands there after, petting Bo and looking off to the side a little. Tahj recognizes the look. She feels the feeling. It's a mix of loneliness and awareness. Confusion, as well. She doesn't know what to do. His shoulders are slumping a little and he's swaying kind of.

"Are you okay?" Dumb question.

"Yeah." Nathaniel nods slowly, eyes locked on blank space for several seconds more before swinging over to Tahj. He grins a little. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

Tahj doesn't know when the progression happened, what she missed. It sounds like a off-handed question when it really wouldn't be out of context. He seems sure enough of himself though. He isn't an emotional whirlwind like Tahj is.

"Sure. Okay."

They curl up on the couch.

The sky outside of the window to the right, the one overlooking the street below and the building across from them, is tinted indigo. The clouds are slowly huddling in a dark cluster. Tahj lays her head on Nathaniel's chest more and closes her eyes, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

"Are you alright, baby?" he asks.

"Fine."

"It's almost eleven," he says. "Should I take you home?"

"Can I sleep here?" Tahj opens her eyes and looks up at Nathaniel. He's looking down at her with a sweet smile.

"You know I don't mind it. Will you dad let you?" he asks.

"Probably not." Tahj shrugs. "I can just call Izziah to cover."

"I didn't know you were such a little rebel," Nathaniel says.

"What can I say? I live life on the wild side."

That earns her a laugh.

Nathaniel is in bed first.

Tahj takes a hot shower and changes into some shorts and a t-shirt that reaches her knees. Either Nathaniel is incredibly tall or Tahj is incredibly short. She climbs in next to his sleeping form and tries to peel the comforter back without shuffling him too much. It turns out to be in vain when he opens his eyes slowly, taking a moment to stare blankly before putting up his arms with a sedated smile. Tahj scoots up closer to the pillows and snuggles up close to her boyfriend. Nathaniel curls one arm around Tahj's head, playing with her curls, and rests the other on her waist. It doesn't take long to fall asleep.

Tahj doesn't fear the dark, per say. Just what lurks in it.

Abandonment lurks in the dark, and oblivion. It was dark that night and it has been since a few months ago. It's a strange occurrence, the changing of a human heart. Something that it obsessed over could just as easily be buried under new experiences and sensations, only resurfacing once it has been rid of its meaning. No longer relevant.

The dark is no longer relevant.

Nathaniel is in the dark, and he's not scary. The opposite, really.

Tahj is in the dark as well.

The metaphysical beings of darkness and relevance are concepts spawned by the subconscious under distress. When there is no more fear to amplify the illusions that are as real as she wants them to be, the only things left are an empty room and haggard breathing and herself being her own worst enemy.

That empty room is where the ghost of Tahj's mother is scratching at the walls and howling like the apparition she will never again be. That room is where her anxiety expands like gas and chokes the paint off the walls. That room is where her skin puffs up in a rainbow of colors and bleeds off of her bones, one aching layer at a time, exposing her as the creature she really is: human.

That room is darkness and relevance and it as powerful as she imagines it to be.

Maybe one day she'll more more powerful.

It storms in the middle of the night. Tahj knows because her eyes blink open in the semi-darkness and a forgotten dread washes over her aching body once again. Nathaniel is sleeping heavily, oblivious.

One part of Tahj misses the solace dissociation brought. In those moments when she was staring out of a portal to another universe, her mind was at a stale peace. She could feel her soul rumbling around her crowded body like laundry in a washing machine, strangely stagnant, and yet, fulfilling at the same time. That was her normal, and although she wasn't proud of it, she learned to grow with it and it somehow adhered to her person, like an extra finger she was disgusted with but never had the heart to hack off.

Another part of Tahj feels empty in some way. Her fingers gravitate to the draft. Her body yearns to feel the painful kiss of cold against it. She does her best to convince herself that this is what she deserves.

It storms and a sliver of Tahj's sanity is still intact. Bless.

It storms and Tahj doesn't mind. Nathaniel is here and Tahj doesn't mind. Her mom never hated her and Tahj doesn't mind. The shivers aren't coming, probably never will again.

It's a funny thing, how the human heart decides in a single moment what it likes and doesn't like. In this moment, Tahj likes how Nathaniel holds her as if the world isn't spinning outside and they are the only two beings in the universe, everything else irrelevant.

Human hearts are funky little things. They do what they want to do regardless of the consequences.

Part of the reason Tahj and Izziah are friends is because they were the only two sitting on the edge of the sandbox in first grade. Tahj because she hadn't attempted to interact, preferring to keep to her own space, and Izziah because the other kids thought her wooden figurines were weird. She needed to have the ones with Barbie's face on them.

So Izziah essentially said 'buzz off' in innocent-ish kid talk, something like 'i don't want to play with you, either. your face is stupid' and she stomped over to where Tahj was drawing with her new friend, Stickie, named so because it was, indeed, a stick.

Tahj, being ever timid and careful, tried to reject the girl's friendship. But Izziah wouldn't stop and Tahj was never outspoken enough so they ended up sticking together.

Two wackos in a straight-laced world with unfriendly edges and poisonous corners got much farther than Tahj ever gave them credit for.

Tahj thinks about all of these things to keep her thoughts from wandering over to the window. Nathaniel is her anchor to reality and the sheets are an extra layer of protection. The rain is a blanket of fear that cries down the windows. It beats on the pain, begging for her to come join it. She clings harder to Nathaniel, buries her nose in his shirt, and blocks it all out.

Sleep is nice.

She should get more of it.


	11. X

Tahj is woken in the morning by her side vibrating. She takes a moment to admire her boyfriend's sleeping face before reaching underneath her and unearthing her phone.

Do you need Plan B? I'm gonna pass CVS on my way to school.  
-Izz, 9.23am

Tahj doesn't remember what she had texted back when she's woken up around eleven by another vibration. Nathaniel is awake when she checks her phone this time. He kisses Tahj's forehead and then snuggles up to her, looking down at Tahj's phone screen with her. 

Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.  
-Izz, 11.47am

Sure. For you and your stupidity, dumquat.  
-you, 11.52am

"I thought you guys were friends." Nathaniel chuckles.

"We're associates with benefits," Tahj says.

"Ahh." Nathaniel nods, his chin clunking the top of Tahj's skull. 

 

Tahj shuts off her phone and tucks it under the pillow, sitting up.

"Do you have a shirt I could borrow?" she asks. 

Nathaniel sits up on his forearm and looks over at his dresser, tilting his head. "Maybe I have something small enough. I'll check."

"I'm going to shower." Tahj pulls the covers back and gets out. A shiver runs through her toes at the sudden drop in temperature once her feet touch the hardwood. She gets up and goes to grab her shorts from the back of the chair next to the door and walks out into the hallway, heading for the bathroom. There is a split second before the unlit bathroom explodes in bright light at her flipping of the switch. She groans, blinking and allowing her eyes to adjust. The door clicks softly when she closes it and she moves forward to the sink. She throws her shorts on the closed toilet and begins stripping, groaning at the fact that she'll have to wear the same underwear and bra until she gets home.

One thought pops into her mind as she's doing this: she forgot to text Izziah.

Tahj groans again at how much trouble she will be in after she explains to her dad that she spent a night with her boyfriend without asking him first. He will positively skin her alive, and maybe Nathaniel as well. She pouts as she scours the cabinet for an unused toothbrush, smiles in victory when she finds one, ripping it out of the packaging, and frowns some more as she's running the toothbrush and some minty toothpaste through her mouth. She won't live to see the good light of day. It doesn't sound too bad at first. But after twenty years of being locked in her bedroom she may lose her sanity at some point. 

Tahj turns on the shower as hot as it will go, but after glancing down at a discolored bruise in the crook of her knee she turns it down a little and adjusts the pressure as well. She steps in and draws the shower curtains so the harsh light is filtered some. Her next challenge after that is to find a towel. It's not a surprise that she can't find one. Her best bet is a green loofa hanging from an in-shower hook. She pauses a second to cringe at where it could have possibly been, before washing it with soap twice and getting down to her own business.

She can just barely hear the door opening over the noise of the shower. When she gets out she grabs a dry towel from a bar above the toilet and dries herself off. On the edge of the sink is a neatly folded t-shirt with a red jersey sitting on top of it. She looks through the cabinets and finds some deodorant (it smells overwhelmingly like men, but hey) along with some generic lotion that will make her skin feel like plastic afterward.

Tahj dresses leisurely and goes back into Nathaniel's room. The man is sitting on the bed looking through his phone. Tahj skips over and sits next to him, looking over his shoulder.

"Izziah texted you," he says, turning back looking apologetic. "It flashed across the screen."

"It's fine." Tahj pats his shoulder. "What did she say?"

"That she covered for you and your ass owes her big time."

Tahj cocks her head.

"Her words, not mine." Nathaniel throws his hands up.

"Yeah. That sounds like her."

"Do you want me to take you home?"

"Ew. Home." Tahj throws herself back into the pillows.

"What happened?" Nathaniel puts his phone aside.

"My mom showed up."

"Whoa."

"Whoa is right." Tahj turns on her side and scoots over so she can put her head in Nathaniel's lap.

"So, no home." Nathaniel strokes her arm. "Then breakfast?"

"I'll eat anything you cook," Tahj says with a smile.

"You know, as exciting as it would to see how many combinations I can create with scrambled eggs, I was thinking of actually taking you out," Nathaniel says.

"On a date?" Tahj sits up and looks at him.

"You don't want to"

"Sure I do." Tahj shrugs and shakes her head. "It's just, I'm wearing a jersey and shorts."

"As opposed to?"

"I don't know. Proper date attire, I guess."

"How many dates have you been on?"

"Zero," Tahj says with a butthurt frown.

"Wrong." Nathaniel tickles her cheek with light, teasing fingertips. "The right answer is many dates. With me. I consider every time I took you somewhere special as a date. That makes one, two, and three counting right now. You've been on three dates with me and I think you wore jeans all three times. This is proper date attire."

"Okay. I'm convinced." Tahj laughs. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere special."

***

There is a saying that people shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Tahj does feel bad even if that is exactly what she does. The 'somewhere special' Nathaniel had mentioned is a dank, red-brick building on a cracking street that is packed with people and smells like meat and something else she struggles to figure out.

They're all speaking in fast Korean that makes Tahj's head spin. She's only heard Nathaniel speak it on occasion, sometimes on the phone, and sometimes just mumbling to himself. The sudden bombardment of the unfamiliar language makes her feel like she's in another country.

"I'll be right back," Nathaniel says when he sets her down at one of the round, tin tables and disappears behind the counter and then in the kitchen. He's gone for several minutes as Tahj plays with the some buttons on the table. She nearly singes her eyebrows off when she switches something she shouldn't have and a blue flame nearly licks her cheek.

She stares at the burner in shock. She had assumed it was a fake, something to match the grill theme of the restaurant. But as she stares at the black pieces of the burner where the titanium peeled off from use and the light grey ashes between the cracks, she thinks she's the stupidest person in the world for it.

Nathaniel comes back after some time, pulling along a woman who looks so much like him that Tahj has to blink to make sure her eyes aren't failing her. This has to be his aunt. This is his aunt's restaurant. She thinks about his leg and feels warm inside that he trusts her this much.

The woman pushes her short, black hair out of her face and smiles when she sees Tahj. The latter automatically stands. She is already trying to figure out something to do with her hands when the woman takes them.

"You're Tahj," the woman says in imperfect English. "Call me Ms. Im."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Im," Tahj says nervously. Her voice nearly cracks.

"If Nathaniel doesn't talk about you until the sun shrivels up and drops out of the sky then dried laver isn't the best little snack you'll ever try," she says chipperly. Tahj isn't sure if that's funny or not. She doesn't know what laver is or why they have to dry it out. She just knows that Nathaniel smiles, so she does, too.

"Well, aren't you a beautiful one, hm?" Ms. Im says generously. Tahj does her best not to blush.

"Thank you."

"I'll leave you all to it then." Ms. Im straightens her apron and excuses herself to the kitchen after whispering something in Nathaniel's ear that makes him go a little red in the face.

"What'd she say?" Tahj asks when they both sit down.

"She said that before we make any plans to wed to tell her first so she can cater," Nathaniel responds with a grin. It doesn't look like he minds that possibility too much. The thought of it makes Tahj squirm. Too fast.

Ms. Im comes out with a plate of raw beef and sets it on the table, smiling proudly with a 'eat up' before going back into the kitchen. Tahj has to hide her confusion. Sure, she's heard of medium rare before. But this is a whole other ballpark.

"This isn't cooked," she says stupidly, missing something.

"Yeah." Nathaniel laughs quietly and turns on the burner, blue flame appearing once again. "We cook it here. Haven't you ever heard of Korean barbeque?"

No, no she hasn't.

Tahj watches as Nathaniel adjusts the burner and settles a detachable griddle over it.

"It's usually like an actual barbeque, though. With coal and everything. This is like barbeque on a budget. Once this place gets off the ground maybe my aunt will have enough to replace all of this C-grade junk."

"How does it taste?" Tahj asks curiously.

"Oh, the real stuff." Nathaniel's face lights up. "Like heaven. It's so tender, buttery even. My favorite cut is the short ribs. Korean beef is on another level or something. I haven't tasted anything like it in America yet. Just what we pick up from the Korean market and cook at home. My uncle makes it the best, though. He's back in Korea."

"Did you leave a lot of family?" Her mouth is already watering as the meat begins to crisp, sizzling in its own juices. She doesn't question why this is breakfast. She just goes along with it. It's been awhile since she has eaten something so decadent and actually worth what it will do to her arteries.

"Probably." Nathaniel shrugs. "I guess it's the same with everyone. There's definitely relatives I know nothing about hiding away in a box somewhere, ready to pop and tell me they haven't seen me since I was a fetus in the womb. Of the relatives I know, though, it's just my uncle and aunt. A few cousins, too. I miss them, but I guess they're all just a phone call away. It's better now that I've been here a while."

"That's good then." Tahj nods.

"Hey, babe. Don't be mad, okay?"

"What would I have to be mad about?" Tahj furrows her eyebrows.

"Well, I may have borrowed one of your paintings to take to someone in the Visual Arts department at my college and I might have accidentally told them that you weren't going anywhere and he may have said that he'd love to have you as a scholarship kid. That process possibly could involve some paperwork that I would be very willing to help you with. You know, if that's cool." He flips the meat and pulls a plate from the stack near the edge of the table, setting it in front of Tahj before pulling one for himself. 

"Well, if this situation weren't hypothetical I wouldn't have a problem with it. I'd definitely thank you for doing something I've never had the courage to do and say you were the best boyfriend ever, worthy of a medal that states as much."

"Really?" Nathaniel smiles. "Cool. Where's my medal?"

"In the mail," Tahj says and watches as Nathaniel puts on a cute frown, laughing. "Do tell me more about this wonderful opportunity."

"Okay. I will." Nathaniel puts some sliced meat on her plate. "The director of the Visual Arts department is Dr. Long. He's a wacky dude, which is why I think he chose the perfect position. Everybody loves him and so do I. We don't see much of each other seeing as I have my culinary course. I heard about him through word of mouth. He sounded like the best person to share your art with. Honestly, he blindsided me with the scholarship thing. I knew he'd love it. I just didn't know he'd love it as much as he did."

"So, he wants to pay me to go to this school?" Tahj can't believe her ears.

"Precisely. He sounded very passionate about it."

"I have been thinking about college," Tahj admits sheepishly, shaking her head with a scrunch of her nose and a heavy sigh. "I just don't know. Izziah thinks it's the worst thing ever. But academics aren't really her thing. They're not mine either. I just like to paint. It doesn't sound too bad, though, just the people and my, um, condition is all."

"You know I'd help you. We'd be going to school together after all." Nathaniel sets his hand on Tahj's with a disarming smile that she can't help but relax and warm at. She nods, laughing awkwardly, sounding more like she's trying to clear her throat when she's just nervous and excited, weird. Definitely the good kind.

"Yeah, I know."

Nathaniel cocks his head then, like he's remembered something. "I never asked you what you couldn't eat. Are you allergic to anything?"

"Not allergic. There are things I can't eat, though," Tahj says, poking into a piece of meat with her handy-dandy chopsticks and watching the juices runs across the plate. It does look good.

"Yeah, like what?" Nathaniel asks.

"Animals that don't chew the cud or have a split hoof. Fish without scales and fins. I'm forgetting the birds, but I don't plan on dining in the wilderness any time soon, so that's okay, I guess." Tahj finally eats a piece of meat and the flavor explodes in her mouth like a monsoon of meaty goodness. "Crap, that's good."

"I know, right?" Nathaniel laughs with a grin. "Wait, why can't you eat those things?"

"Those are the dietary rules in the bible. I am supposed to be a practicing Christian. I am. It's just I haven't gone to church in a few months because of...stuff. You know, the stuff. The people there are nice enough. I grew up with them around me. But, I mean, they're like any other social group. They talk." Tahj shrugs. "I guess, I've just gotten away from it. I feel like a hypocrite. I haven't gone in so long and yet here I am, talking about the dietary law. I suppose I'll get back into it. It's just been hard for a time. But, yeah, I can't eat any of that stuff. Are you allergic to anything?"

Nathaniel shakes his head. "Not that I can recall. You should be safe for the kimchi, though. It's usually made with shrimp paste, but my aunt doesn't like it to be too salty. My other uncle, my mom's brother, the one back in Korea, would flip. He's all about tradition. I tried to tell her once. She just cuffed me on the back of the head and said that this is her restaurant and she can do what she wants. So, you've got a green light for the kimchi. Ever had it before?"

"No." Tahj shakes her head and pinches her face a little, not trying to be rude. "But, is that what's smelling like funky cheese?"

"Oh, yeah." Nathaniel chuckles. "It's an acquired taste. And smell. I can't even promise you'll like it because my friends tried it and weren't too fond of it. Nazima and Kuhn were okay with the spice, but Jackson looked personally offended, like I tried to singe his throat or something. Mark was in between. They all had some trouble grappling with the taste, though. Different palettes, I guess."

"I'll try it," Tahj says apprehensively. She points to a ceramic bowl on the table filled with what looks like fiery cabbage. "Is this it?"

Nathaniel nods. "Yeah, that's it."

Tahj picks up a small chunk with her chopsticks, but before she can put it in her mouth Nathaniel takes her wrist and shakes his head. "You want it in a wrap. Trust me."

She waits while Nathaniel takes her chopsticks and stuffs the kimchi in a slice of leafy, green lettuce with a piece of beef. He returns her chopsticks and holds out the wrap. Tahj takes the wrap into her mouth and holds it there for a minute, jaw unmoving. Nathaniel encourages her by taking fake bites.

"I don't even know what this is, Nathan. What did you just put into my mouth?"

Nathaniel tries not to laugh. It's probably because Tahj feels like there's a bomb ready to detonate on her tongue and she can imagines she looks as such. "It's fermented cabbage with red pepper paste and other stuff. Bite it."

Tahj does so tentatively. She's grateful that her first bite is mostly of the beef that's still good even though it's a little cold. She is not so grateful when her second bite is just kimchi and lettuce. The taste is overpowering everything connected to her nose and mouth. It's spicy and sour at the same time with a kick of salt at the end that adds no relief, just piles on the pain higher until she starts tearing up. She can't stand the way Nathaniel is having a grand ole' time laughing at her expense, so she chews through the pain and eventually swallows, throat raw and uncomfortably hot.

"You're a jerk," Tahj says before she can grab her glass of water and chase down the taste. "You, in no way, prepared me for that. You said it was spicy, not, not, not that. If I wasn't dying over here, I'd hit you Nathaniel. You're not getting that medal now."

"Aw, man."

They finish eating. Tahj has her wraps with beef and other veggies. Nathaniel indulges in his beloved kimchi that gave Tahj a slight stomachache. Nothing major. The pain is just present enough to remind her that she doesn't anymore for a long, long time. Nathaniel pays and bids goodbye to his aunt who tells him to bring Tahj around more. She asks if Tahj tried the kimchi and how'd she like it. Nathaniel catches the metaphorical sweat that breaks out on Tahj's face and says something in Korea. His aunt laughs and looks over at Tahj with a smile.

"That's okay. It's not for everyone."

The two leave after that. It's around two p.m. then. Tahj has some finals later in the afternoon so he drives Tahj home. She is in no way ready to go back. She really has no say in the matter, though. She just kisses Nathaniel goodbye when they arrive and watches him back out of the driveway.


	12. XI

Tahj's plan to avoid her mother goes to the dogs when her dad wakes her up, a Sunday, no less, and tells her they're having an impromptu breakfast party. Tahj isn't the hugest fan of breakfast or parties. Her first instinct is to crack an eye open, huff, close it again, and then roll over.

"C'mon, pumpkin." Her dad taps her shoulder. "Do it for me?"

"I'm going to confiscate your apron because you're not being very #1 pops-y at the moment." Tahj groans and sits up. The blanket slides from her shoulders and pools at her waist.

"Hey, attagirl. I will see you downstairs in twenty minutes with a smile."

Tahj only opens her eyes when the door closes. It's bright, too bright.There's a foul taste in her mouth that might be hair, but, the question is, how did it get there? Tahj vaguely recalls that Bennett is supposed to be flying in this afternoon as she puts on some pants and rubs the sleep out of her eyes. The fact that she'll have her lanky tree back doesn't help veil what she's about to do: have breakfast with her mother. The thought of it makes her want to crawl in a hole and evaporate. She slides her phone in her pocket like a sword in a sheath. Maybe texting Nathaniel about how awkward it is will cure some of her nerves. Is he in class right now?

What day is it?

She has no priorities. None. She vows to herself that she'll get some after she rakes her hair into a pineapple thing on her crown. She has a mini panic attack on her way down the steps because it's really quiet, like they're waiting for her. The truth is they aren't sitting in silence, rather whispering back and forth to each other. Said whispering stops promptly when Tahj makes her entrance and she can't help but squint and wonder.

"Good morning." Her mother says airily, smiling.

"Morning," Tahj says back. She grabs a stool and sits at the island, opposite her mother and close enough to her dad to kick him for doing this to her. It's barely eight a.m. There is a place in the world where this is illegal. Child abuse. She is just beginning to get a decent amount of sleep per night. The case would have been the same for last night hadn't she stayed up talking to Bennett. But that's not important right now. What is important is that her mother is looking at her and her dad is looking at her and they both seem to want something that Tahj won't ask about. She pokes at the plate of extra crispy turkey bacon and runny eggs that her dad plants right in front of her, grinning.

Soon, the kitchen is full of clanking forks and shallow breathing. Tahj still isn't over how her dad is so extremely calm. This woman who packed up and abandoned them is suddenly back one day, crashing into their lives like she went to pick up some milk from around the corner and got stopped at a long red light. The more she sits here and thinks about it, the more she's gripping her fork like it's her anchor to sanity, keeping her from saying something she wants to but probably shouldn't.

"So," her mother sits up, skewering a piece of egg with her fork and smiling right at Tahj. "I thought we could see a movie tonight. Neighbors 2 is supposed to be funny. Do you want to see a movie?"

Tahj doesn't look up. She pushes around her food with lazy strokes of her fork. "Not really my type of thing."

"We can see something else then," her mother says hopefully.

"Movies aren't really my type of thing." Tahj eats a piece of egg and lets it sit in her mouth.

"Or, we could-"

"Actually, going anywhere with you isn't really my thing."

"Tahj," her dad warns.

"Ray, it's alright." Her mother takes a deep breath. "Sweetie, I'm sorry. I know I haven't been around and me being here is going to take some adjusting to. I can't apologize to you enough for that. But, I left for us."

"No, you left because you wanted to." She is somewhat blindsided by the anger that pours out of her mouth. She had sensed a fraction of it, boiling underneath her skin. The extent does surprise her, though. She puts her fork down completely after her appetite vanishes. Tahj is aware of the eyes on her face, but she can't find it anywhere in her to meet any of them.

"I"m not hungry." She stands, looking toward the living room and sighing deeply to keep herself from throwing up at the rush of sadness and anger that lands in her stomach and stays there, hot and heavy.

"You should eat," her mother says. Tahj rebukes the worry that is thick in her voice.

"I feel sick."

"I could make porri-"

"I just want to sleep." Tahj leaves without a word more. She goes up to her bedroom and closes the door. It's strange the way she wants to cry but doesn't at the same time. She scans her room in a hurry for something to do before she has the leisure to settle on sitting on the floor and bawling like a toddler. As if she'll have her hands cut off the very next day, Tahj gets out her easel and props up some thick paper. A few jars of paint nearly slip out of her busy fingers when she lines them on the edge and sits on her wooden stool, tense and desperate.

Turns out sadness is an emotion she works well with. By the time she's done creating a black ocean with blue and silver shadows against an endless, indigo night, she almost feels bad for herself. The wet, imperfectly round moon hangs low in the crackling sky and is shaded by fat, destructive clouds that empty themselves into the waves, wild and dangerous.

Tahj ping-pongs between painting, sketching, and pretending to sleep before waking up ten minutes later even more tired and frustrated. She wishes she actually had the energy to storm out of of the house like a normal teenager. It seems pretty redundant to make a scene and not leave. The fact that she's still here, only a room above where her parents are surely whispering passionately about her, is sad. Nathaniel is half an hour away and probably busy being an actual student. Izziah is wherever Izziah wants to be, outside and enjoying the company of people whose company is actually enjoyable. Bennett isn't due to make an appearance until late afternoon/early evening.

Tahj is the only one out of the bunch who is sitting idle and unimportant in her room. She's the only one who has no idea what she wants to do with her life. Nathaniel wants to open a restaurant, Bennett wants to join a Symphony, and Izziah probably is going to end up coordinating bungee jumping sessions off the side of a Buddhist temple somewhere in rural China. They all have it figured out while Tahj struggles to get out of bed in the morning. To say she isn't thinking about some form of higher education would be considered lying. To say that she isn't pants-wetting terrified would also be considered lying.

***

Izziah does her famous barging in some time in the afternoon when Tahj is actually sleeping after having thought herself into a short, restless nap. She sits up when Izziah hops on her bed, yawning quietly and blinking tiredly.

"T. You're not going to believe what happened."

Tahj can't help but smile. 1,000% it has to do with a boy.

"This hombre tried to talk to me today."

Bingo.

Izziah dives in nose first into her story. Tahj is listening somewhat, thinking about something else somewhat. She's heard a billion boy stories from Izziah in her lifetime. What she's focused on are the blonde highlights in Izziah's brown hair and the gold hoop earrings framing her heart-shaped face. Since when did she wear earrings? She looks different. In a good way. Summer vacation is doing her well. Tahj's heart only twists a little as a pang of hurt captures it when she thinks about how Izziah is slowly changing, becoming a different person. Slowly leaving Tahj behind.

"Are you even listening?" Izziah nudges Tahj with a quirked brow.

"Sorry."

"Whatever, T." Izziah scoots to the head and crosses her legs, hazel eyes trained on her. "What have you been up to?"

Tahj shrugs. "I've been thinking about college."

"Yuck. College." Izziah groans with an eyeroll. "Monica won't get off my case about it. I know she's trying to be supportive by telling me that it doesn't have be a 4-year and I could go to a trade school if I wanted. But she just doesn't get it. What if I don't want to go to college?"

"What would you do then?" Tahj asks.

"Aw, man, I don't know." Izziah heaves a sigh. "Maybe, travel. Like Confucius. Learn, grow, and ascend. All that good stuff."

"Your goal in life is to model the existence of an old Chinese man?"

"No, smart one." Izziah kicks her foot out playfully, and even though Tahj knows she means no harm she jerks back, grinning. "My goal in life is to actually live it. Instead of being stuck in some hall full of people that the only thing I have in common with is the fact that we're all going to be in debt for the rest of our lives, probably."

"Apply for a scholarship?" Tahj offers lamely.

Izziah actually laughs at this, bitterly so, mind you. "Unless there's a Life Alert to get my grades back up from how low they've fallen, then I'm gonna have to keep dreaming. Plus, it's too late. Even if I were to apply by the end of this month I'd be cutting it close to start in the Spring semester. Scholarships are out of the question. Financial aid is out of the question. My entire life is out the question."

Tahj hums empathetically.

"Oh, yeah. You were saying something earlier about the demon institution." Izziah slumps lower in the pillows and looks at Tahj.

"About college."

Izziah shrugs. "Same difference."

"What if I wanted to go?"

Izziah sits up then.

"You?" she says incredulously.

"Me," Tahj confirms.

"In college?"

"Correct."

"Voluntarily?"

"Now I don't really intend to be clubbed and dragged there," Tahj snaps impatiently. "Are you planning on giving me actual input, or are you just going to keep stringing together monosyllable responses?"

"Sorry. I just-" Izziah shakes her head. "I'm just surprised. Not online?"

"Not outline," Tahj says definitely. She thought about doing it online. But that seemed just as safe as what's she's always been doing. Nothing makes her as scared and excited as the thought of actually being there, amongst people, and not feeling like she is drowning.

"I think online would be best, though."

"Why?" Tahj asks.

"It's dangerous. You have have, you know-"

"I'm know. I'm crippled," Tahj says bitterly.

"I didn't mean it that way," Izziah says defensively.

"Then how did you mean it?" Tahj's voice pitches.

"I meant, uh, something like, más vale ser cabeza de ratón que cola de león," Izziah says.

"More Confucius?" Tahj asks. Her face is warm and she's getting anxious, but she is curious.

"No. My dad said that."

"Your foster dad?" Tahj softens.

"No. My real dad. Before he-"

"Yeah." Tahj nods. "Right. What does it mean?"

"The English equivalent is weird. But it basically means that it's better to be a big fish in a little pond than a small fish in a big pond. You don't have to push yourself to be something you're not."

"I'm not pushing," Tahj groans and leans back on her bed.

"What are you doing then?" Izziah pries. "The world isn't fun or easy. It's frustrating, lonely. It's a bad place. It sucks. You don't get that."

"You want to live your life," Tahj huffs, "but I don't have the right to live mine?"

"Your life is good, T. You have a loving family, and now your mom's back."

"I've known her for what, a month? She's barely my mom." Tahj stands now and paces from her desk back to the bed.

"At least she cares," Izziah says, suddenly serious. Tahj stops pacing and looks at Izziah.

"Monica cares," Tahj says.

"Yeah." Izziah shrugs with a tight grin. "When she isn't drunk or high."

"Look, I get what you're saying but-"

"No." Izziah gets up. All traces of her usually easy-going and playfully sarcastic nature are gone. "You don't get it. You have a dad and a mom now. They both love you. They're not alcoholics or drug addicts or anything else. You're so lucky but you don't even appreciate it. I love you, Tahj, but you can be so selfish sometimes."

"I'm selfish?" Tahj scoffs and rolls her eyes. "I'm selfish for wanting to take control of my life for once? Not wanting to let everything I've always hated about myself rule me makes me selfish? I'm not allowed to be my own person?"

"That's not what I meant," Izziah says roughly.

"Yes, that is what you meant. You hate not being in control of everything. You're a control freak, Izz, and you can't stand when things don't go the way you planned them. Newsflash: We're not six anymore. You can't boss me around in the sandbox. I'm doing this." Tahj is vaguely aware of the mortified expression frozen on Izziah's face when she sits at her desk and throws open her notepad. Her heart is beating, inconsistent and frantic, as she sloppily scribbles nonsense in the corner. Her hands are shaking so bad she can't form actual things on the paper.

"Is that how you really feel, chica?" Her voice sounds small and hurt.

Tahj doesn't reply.

"Fine. Whatever."

After a minute of awkward breathing, the familiar whine of weight being lifted from her mattress demands all of her attention. She counts the heavy steps that lead up to the door, can even hear the stuttered breaths, before her door closes.

She sits at her desk for a long time, wiping away the tears that drip pathetically out of her eyes for a little before completely giving up and letting them soak the crumpled paper in front of her. Her chest is tight. Her throat is too warm. Her shoulders won't stop shaking because of the sobs that reduce her to a soggy mess across the surface of her desk.

The sky darkens. Tahj observes this with sedated attention when her crying stops and she resigns herself to staring out of the window, emptiness rattling loud and hollow in her chest. Her stomach is in actual pain as she stands, after hours, and cracks every stiff muscle in her lower and upper body. She turns on her desk lamp before leaving her room. She walks carefully down the stairs, slightly unnerved at the lack of noise.

A quick look out of the window tells her that her parents have gone somewhere together and that she's home alone for however long. This bit of new information helps her relax as she goes into the kitchen and sticks her head directly into the fridge.

Tahj is nabbing a plate from the cabinet over the sink to use for her pizza when the sound of the front door unlocking makes her stop and listen. 

"Hey, squirt." 

Tahj doesn't squeal. She doesn't. That's the sound of her feet on the hardwood as she drops her plate on the counter and runs into the living room, straight into Bennett's arms. He stumbles back with a deep chuckle, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing gently.

"Easy, squirt. You'll bruise."

She tries to say something coherent, but her words come out so fast and urgent that Bennett ends up shushing her and patting her back. Tahj's hold is becoming exponentially tighter as she warms up on the inside at having her big brother back. He's warm just like she remembers and he smells just like how Bennett is supposed to smell, a little like organic green tea and generic cologne with a hint of brass.

"You're here," Tahj says, a little breathless and in awe.

"In the flesh, shortie."

Tahj loosens her grip a little bit to stare up at him, smiling like a fool. "Are you hungry?"

"Um," Bennett laughs. "Actually, I am. I'd love some of your famous microwaved leftover pizza. If you got it."

"I got it." Tahj nods.

"Good."

Tahj lets Bennett undress when she goes back into the kitchen and adds some more pizza on her plate, putting it in the microwave. She walks over to the kitchen doorway and watches Bennett toe out of his boots at the door. He goes over to the closet and begins putting his outerwear away. Tahj goes to grab a stool.

 

Bennett strolls into the kitchen. He always has to duck a little so the top of the doorway doesn't nick him on the forehead. He's over six feet and is built all over from basketball, despite never playing for an actual team and being more well-versed in the art of sight-reading than ball stealing. He's not 'no-neck, 200lb, I can never work in retail or else I'll scare small children' big, but he's brawny and has defined muscles. He sits across from Tahj.

"Was the flight okay?" Tahj asks. 

"I had to sit in front of a screaming kid and his mom who was more interested in her show than what her child was doing. The food in coach kinda sucked. My neck is raw from napping on the plane. But, other than that it was alright. Nothing exploded." Bennett says, running his fingers over his sandy brown fade, looking up at Tahj with a tired grin. "How was your day?"

"It was normal." She shrugs with her eyes on the green numbers of the microwave, ticking down slowly. It's at twenty-three seconds when Bennett says that Tahj is lying and she shakes her head.

"What do you mean?" She doesn't look at him.

"What I mean," Bennett is saying, "is that your emotions are like a PSA. Something happened and I want to know what that something is. So shoot, sister."

"Nothing happened," Tahj says. She notices the hitch in her voice and nearly whines because of it. Bennett keeps looking at her, puts his chin in his hands and tilts his head.

"Humor me."

"I...uh...I-" Tahj clears her throat, eyes roaming uncomfortably across the lines in the table before coming back up to stare at Jackson. She is just opening her mouth when the microwave dings and she hates herself for jumping up like the guilty duck she is and nearly tripping over the leg of one of the stools to turn off the timer. She sticks her hand directly in the microwave without thinking and hisses when she comes close to searing off her fingerprints.

"Be careful," Bennett chides.

"Alright, okay," Tahj is grumbling to herself when she puts her thumb in her mouth and revels in the coolness. "Note to self, don't do that."

"You fought with Izziah?"

Tahj looks at her older brother then, forehead creasing. "How did...-"

"She texted me to come over later. She said she has stuff to return and receive."

Tahj groans and slumps, limbs suddenly heavy with regret. "She hates me now, doesn't she?"

"She doesn't hate you." Bennett finally gets up and decides to serve himself since Tahj just standing at the open microwave nursing her fried thumb as a result of her own never failing stupidity isn't getting food into his stomach any faster. He takes out the now cool plate and picks up a second one on his way back to his stool. He waves the empty plate at Tahj and nods his head to the island. Tahj limps over and melts across the cool, slick granite, listless.

"She hates me. The one friend I have now wants nothing to do with me. Great job, Tahj. Thanks, Tahj. Oh, no problem, Tahj. Anything for you."

"Stop holding a dialogue with yourself and hold one with me." Bennett slides over a plate with two slices of pizza. "She doesn't hate you. She's just dramatic. You both are. Trust me. I grew up dealing with it."

Tahj only grumbles in response.

"Okay, we won't talk about it. Just know that I'm right." Bennett takes a bite of pizza and thumps his index and middle finger on the top of Tahj's head to get her to lift it and look at him. It works, even if she is glowering now. "Let's talk about mom. Are you okay?"

Dumb question.

"No."

"Do you think you'll be okay soon?"

"Probably not." Tahj shrugs.

"Tahj, there's something you need to know that nobody but me wants to tell you."

"Is there anyone in this house that hasn't been keeping things from me?" Tahj sits up.

"It's hard to tell you some things-"

"Why? Because I'll break," Tahj inserts roughly.

"No." Bennett corrects her with a strong look that tells her she might want to stop talking and listen. "Because we care. And sometimes you're so inside of your own head that you aren't listening."

 

"Fine." Tahj steels herself with a deep breath. "I'm all ears."

It's sickening how fast she regrets saying anything. Tahj's stomach twists. Her head fills with pressure and explodes, repeatedly. Bennett levels her with a empathetic look, eyes sad and grin empty. Her arms are shaking a little. Her leg is doing that thing where it shakes and she doesn't really have any control over it. 

Bennett continues to speak, but Tahj's mind is still wrapped up in 'he hit her'. Her head tries to bend itself to understand it. The same hands that lulled her to sleep have blood on them. The same eyes that are usually tired but happy, a fulfilling combination, are deeper than she ever could have imagined. Stiff callouses, blunt fingernails, and brown veins take on a whole new meaning. An unfamiliar and confusing one.

"You're not listening," he accuses.

"I am."

"I've forgiven him for a while now. Mom has, too. He may not have forgiven himself yet, but that's him. She left because she wasn't okay. She's better now. It would help if her only daughter wasn't so hostile toward her."

Tahj inwardly scoffs at the way he uses 'only' to guilt her, and it works.

"Mom loved us." Bennett puts his hand on top of Tahj's. "She still loves us. You don't have to join her fanclub. Just give her a chance. Okay, bub?"

Tahj rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "This is unreal."

"Squirt, she only ever wanted the best for us. I was young when it happened, which only means you were that much younger. I get that it's hard information to take in. But, try, okay? At least for my sake."

Tahj gets up, disconnecting their hands, and walks over to the doorway.

"For dad. For you. What about for me? When do I get to be okay, huh?"

"Squirt."

"No." Tahj backs up, rubbing at the throbbing in her temple as she goes. "I have to go. I have to...I have to leave. I'm selfish. I'm the most selfish person on the planet, but I can't be here right now."

"You're not selfish." Bennett gets up and jogs after Tahj who is already sliding into her shoes and fitting her phone in her jeans pocket. He grabs her by her shoulders and urges her to look at him. It proves to be one of the most difficult things she's done all day. She can't look at him properly without feeling like a bratty teenager throwing a hissy fit. It's just hard to get over the mountain sat right in front of her eyes and looming terrifyingly high.

"You're not selfish, bub. Why would you think that?"

"I'm not the only one who thinks that."

"Wait, was it Izziah?" Bennett sighs. "Tahj, she was mad. You both were. You know she didn't mean it."

"How do you know that, Ben? She could've meant it. And, I mean, even if I am selfish and conceited or whatever else, I think some of it is justified considering all of the crap that's been dumped on me in the last few months and just now. You had your time to deal with everything. I didn't. Don't I at least deserve some time, Ben? Or is that selfish as well?"

Bennett closes with eyes with a frustrated noise and releases his grip on Tahj's shoulders, by the slight tremors in his arms, he does so very reluctantly. He opens his eyes again once he's less tense and the way he stares at Tahj or through her, with these sad, sad eyes prevents her from saying anything as her chest constricts a little, stuttering strangely.

"Where would you go?" His voice is very tight and low.

"To my boyfriend's house. Nathaniel," she answers quietly. He looks at her then, like a small child getting their first taste of betrayal. The obvious question is suffocating. She has a boyfriend and he didn't know about it. It would be easier for Tahj to leave if Bennett wasn't blinking at her like a wounded puppy. She can't contain the wave of emotion that crashes against her agitated shore and she throws her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek once before slipping outside.

The sun is extremely low in the sky. She walks to the nearest park in the last slivers of daylight. She sits on a swing and sends Nathaniel a text message. She tells him not to rush if he's busy. She has no one else to see, nowhere else to go.


	13. XII

Turned out that Tahj was much better than she thought she was going to be. After half an hour of sitting on the swing and letting the evening breeze sizzle across her bare arms, causing shivers down to her bone, she came to a state of peace. Fatigue started to settle in.

Nathaniel practically carried her to the car with how heavily Tahj was leaning on him, one hand around his waist and the other reaching out blindly to get a feel for where the top of the car was so she wouldn't crack her skull open. Her memory from the night before is scrambled and fuzzy. The only thing she can recall further than that is when Nathaniel tucked her in and she officially clocked out.

Her mouth tastes like a cat crawled in it and birthed an entire litter. She can't remember the last time she drank water and so she wakes up with a headache to rival all others, dehydrated and emotional for a reason she can't fathom. She already knows by the way the sun is bright but not unbearably so that it's the afternoon. Her back is slightly damp with sweat. She fluffs her shirt a little too air it out as she gets out of the bed and wanders into the kitchen. She takes a moment to read the note from Nathaniel that's hung on the freezer door by a magnet shaped like a pizza that says 'Buck's Pizza Palace':

Morning, babe. It's bright and early Monday morning, so I have classes. Eat something and drink lots of water. I'll be back around noon to check on you before going to another class and then I'm free for the rest of the day. I love you.

-Nathan :)

Tahj smiles and runs her fingers down the chicken scrawl she can barely recognize. He can't draw and his handwriting matches that of a toddler's, but he's loveable. Tahj struck gold. After she clears the plate of bacon and eggs left in the oven, she walks down the hall to the bathroom to brush her teeth. As the spearmint takes over her senses she can think a little more clearly. She's not just here to see her boyfriend, she's here on a mission: to heal and not go crazy in the process. It sounds simple when she puts it like that, but she knows full and well that it isn't going to be.

Despite her prediction of what is to come, in this moment, everything comes natural, like second nature. Tahj takes a shower and swipes a pair of Nathaniel's boxers. She doesn't have time to blush when she's so focused on being clean. She scrapes together an entire outfit. Grey sweats, a red t-shirt, her comfy boxers, and some white socks. It's all too big. It feels nice, though. She feels swaddled in the best way possible.

She finds her phone on the dresser in the bedroom, dismayed to discover she has missed calls in the teens. A large chunk is from her dad, a few are from an unknown number that Tahj has no doubt belongs to her mother, and surprisingly enough, one is from Izziah. She probably called to get whatever it was Bennett was talking about. As much as Izziah may be itching to become ex-besties, and as much as Tahj tries her best not to be a burden on anyone, she can't bring herself to call her back. She'd like to have a best friend for at least a few more days. Or until her plan to lay low is thwarted and she is forced to go back.

She watches tv until she hears the door unlocking in the afternoon, not noon exactly, but close enough.

"You were pretty out of it last night," is the first thing Nathaniel says when Tahj tackles him into a hug and he tells her to be careful, but he's laughing when he says it.

"Did you eat?" he asks.

"I did," Tahj answers.

"Do you want to talk?" he asks.

"Not really."

"Well, we don't have to talk, but I need to hold you right now. School bites." Nathaniel walks over and collapses into the couch. He holds out his holds and makes grabby motions, beckoning her with a smile. Tahj walks over and sits, letting Nathaniel pull her into his lap. She wraps one arm around his shoulder and leans into him. She tries to be what they both need at the moment. 

"Actually, can we talk?"

"Of course. How do you feel?"

"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel."

"How do you actually feel?"

"I'm not sure of that either."

"How do you want to feel?"

That's easy. "Okay."

"I'll help you. Whatever you need, baby. Just tell me and I'll do it. I don't know what you're feeling so I can't tell you it'll get better soon because I don't know that it will. You can tell me everything, though. Anything."

"Thank you."

"Of course."

Nathaniel is always warm. 

Does love have a taste? It should. To Tahj, love tastes like Nathaniel's soft, sweet breath. It tastes like a drop of bitter fruit as she walks a thin between infatuation and he doesn't even really know what this is. Nathaniel tastes like a warm, summer night under a gazebo somewhere in California. His hands feel like a childhood she has coveted from every wild teenage romcom where the main character ends up in a ditch somewhere on top of a banged up Chevy with the love of their life wrapped up in their bosom. Tahj isn't sure of many of things. What she is sure of, however, is that she wants to feel how she does right now for a very long time. She thinks how much she loves Nathaniel. She says it aloud, too. It may just be a whisper, but they both hear it. 

"I love you, too."

Tahj grows impossibly warm. 

 

That night, Nathaniel holds Tahj like she'll disappear if he doesn't. She says 'I love you' again because she can't seem to stop saying it after the first time, and every time Nathaniel says it back she can hardly think straight. She realizes with an appropriate amount of relief and fear that she's in love with Nathaniel and there's nothing she can do to stop. 

After Nathaniel knocks out, his breathing evening out and grip loosening, Tahj tries to follow right behind him. It doesn't help that the wood of the bedside drawer is buzzing. She grabs her phone off of it, surprised at the name that the screen is lit up with. She answers it apprehensively and presses the phone to her ear.

"T?"

"Izz?"

"I'm sorry," they both happen to say simultaneously. Tahj would laugh if she weren't so anxious.

"I was a jerk. You're not a control freak."

"It's cool, T. I know I'm bossy."

"No, you're amazing. I'm the selfish one who couldn't realize that sooner."

"T, you aren't selfish. You're just-"

"Inside of my own head too much?"

"A bit?"

"I know, Izz. And I'm sorry for going off on you like that. If you still want your stuff back, I get it."

"No, no. Keep everything. I'll do the same. You're still the cheese to my wine, okay?"

"Okay."

"Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall."

"Who said that?"

"The old Chinese dude I want to model my life from."

Tahj laughs loud enough to worry if she woke Nathaniel. A quick peek over her shoulder tells her that he's still in deep sleep. At least one of them will wake up rested the next morning. The two end up talking for another hour. One will apologize before the other tells them to stop and then apologize in place of the other. It goes in a cycle, with the addition of other things that make them laugh at each other and occasionally at theirselves. It's so easy for Tahj to be herself with Izziah. They have a sweet gig and she's happy that it isn't over just yet.

The next morning is better than she expected it it be. Tahj manages to find another outfit of Nathaniel's that fits her so she can take a shower. She knows she has to go home soon because the box of stuff with his high school clothes is emptying out. She'll have to face reality soon. The prospect isn't appealing. It's going to happen, though. She just has to get her fill of enjoyment before it does. 

Tahj makes breakfast this time. She's had her fill of eggs and bacon. She makes french toast. Although she knows the bread is a little burnt and the egg mixture has way too much cinnamon, Nathaniel eats it anyway. He wolfs it down like this is his last meal before prison. She does feel bad, but he says he enjoys it so much that Tahj tricks herself into thinking he really does. He kisses her and she crinkles her nose at the sticky syrup on his lips. Nathaniel thinks it's the funniest thing in the world. 

His schedule today is the same as yesterday. He leaves in the morning, comes back at around noon to cuddle with Tahj, and then leaves back before coming back for good at around three. Before they sleep Tahj says 'I love you" and Nathaniel says it back like clockwork, not the cold, mechanical kind either. 

They kiss and sleep.

Bennett is over so early in the morning that Tahj doesn't have time to shower. She just brushes her teeth, splashes water on her face, and meets Nathaniel at the front door. Tahj kisses Nathaniel one last time before she has to let go because of her thigh vibrating. Bennett is growing a little impatient. He's a grump in the morning.

"Are you sure you're okay? I'm sure your family will understand if you need more time."

Tahj appreciates the grip Nathaniel has on her waist, heavy and light at the same time, concerned. She smiles.

"Of course I'm not okay. I don't think it'll be a while before I can say I am. I have to go, though. My, uh, parents are waiting for me. My brother and Izziah, too. I don't like to make people worry."

"If you have to." Nathaniel steals a kiss on the cheek and sends her off. Tahj takes the stairs down. She greets an old woman taking out her garbage. She thinks she can hear birds chirping in the distance. The air is horribly muggy today.

"Hi." Tahj hugs Bennett immediately. 

"'Sup, squirt." He hugs back. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Let's go."

Tahj climbs in and buckles up. Bennett goes over to the driver's side and gets in. They ride in silence for two blocks. Tahj hasn't seen her brother in three days and she can feel a change. Time weighs more heavily on her as she gets older. Seventeen going on eighteen is very different from ten. The silence lifts when they stop at a long red light. 

"I know this a dumb question, but, are you okay? I know everything is going on right now and stuff. I just mean, right now, are you okay to go home? I talked to mom and dad. They get it. You could stay for a little longer. Or, I could drop you off at Izziah's, if you want." Bennett's grip is lax on the wheel. He has the luxury of turning his head to stare at Tahj for a few moments before casting his eyes back on the road. 

"I'm a big girl," Tahj replies simply, too simply apparently.

"You sure?" he pries. "I care too much about you to-"

"Are you trying to convince me not to come home or something? I'm really fine, Bennet. You know, relatively."

"You sure you're sure?"

Tahj squints.

"Okay." Bennett laughs. "You're fine."

"Yes, I'm okay."

"Do you want to stop somewhere while we're out? We could get something to eat. Are you hungry? Did you eat yet? You know, it might be a good idea just to stop somewhere anyway."

"Do you want to stop somewhere? Because you sound way more nervous than I'm feeling right now. I know what I signed up for, Ben."

"Right." Bennett's voice is sympathetic. "You're the one who should be like this. Not me. I'm glad that you're, well, you know, okay and all. Relatively, of course. Do you need anything from your big brother, at all?"

Tahj shakes her head indicating 'no', she's okay for the moment and would rather ride home in silence. Minutes wear on and the tension is thick. Tahj rolls down the window despite the cold winds blasting from the AC just so she can breathe in some of the stale, hot air. She tries to focuses all of her attention on the pollen blowing in the warm wind and twirling pictures something pretty instead of letting the curiosity eat away at her thoughts.

Tahj has been not okay lots of times. Even though the world doesn't take kind to the weak, surprisingly enough, Tahj has been more of a danger to herself than any outside force. She's always thought of herself as a creature and not a regular person. She likes to pretend, though. Loves to pretend that she isn't and so, when no one's looking, she thinks things she shouldn't be thinking. She pushes himself past her limit to prove to herself that she isn't what she was programmed to be: weak. Her fantasies are always a large distortion of her reality. She thinks she can go to college and maybe that one is coming true, but it's going to be more difficult than anything she's ever had to do. The thought such a huge transition is enough for her to chicken out. She just hopes she's as brave as she's being now in a couple of months when she'll actually need to be, not saying that she doesn't now as well.

Pulling up to the house is surreal enough. The long windows and red bricks are soaking in all of the sun they can, reflecting light in places Tahj has never noticed before. A black SUV is parked in the driveway and Bennett pulls in behind it. He shuts off the engine.

Although pulling up is surreal enough, actually getting out makes Tahj feels like she's stepping on air. She vaguely registers that there is a hand on her lower back. Bennett. He's talking to her and she should be paying attention. But the only things she can focus on are the nerves popping and crackling on the back of her neck and the anxiety kicking up a wild fuss in her stomach to the point where she can only be led like a cow to slaughter.

Bennett unlocks the door. Tahj tells herself that this is her last chance to escape. A large part of her doesn't understand why she doesn't take it. A smaller part responds that it's because she said she would do this. Keeping her word is one part of growing up and Tahj wants most of what has to do with being her own person. A desire to live her own life crept up on her some time during the last month, gradually. At some point the gradual pace had quickened and she woke up one morning with nothing else on her mind.

Keeping her word is one part of the process. Tahj doesn't run.

Like a dream, the door opens before her. Bennett steps in and Tahj is right behind him.

Who else is sitting on the couch but her mother, ever the apparition. The tv is on but she doesn't seem to be watching it. She looks up at Tahj the second she has her shoes off. Maybe it's reverse-gravity. It just looks like her mother rises not on own accord, but because the pressure on her body says it should be that way. Or, it could just be Tahj's foggy mind playing tricks on her.

And then they're hugging. It feels weird. It shouldn't be like this. This is far too intimate to be a stranger, someone who just dropped into her life like a bomb and exploded, leaving her emotions in shambles.

"I love you, sweetie."

It wouldn't be strange for Tahj not to hate this. She's come to the conclusion that she won't act like a brat for the time being. It wasn't a hard decision to make. She has been a slave to her mother's ghost for so long and she refuses to be that any longer now that the body has finally caught up to the spirit. Decision made. Done. She's not mad or sad or frustrated anymore. At least, she will try not to be. So, the fact that she isn't overwhelmed by some emotion strong enough to push her mother away as she had been up until this moment shouldn't be strange. But, the strange part is that she doesn't really feel anything, not even discomfort which she's entitled to on some level. She is just thinking how peculiar it is that she's oddly blissed out in a way when her knees buckle.

She blacks out.


	14. XIII

It's funny that this seems to be another way for her to run away from her problems. If her own actions won't do it, her body will. She would laugh if she weren't so sore all over. Her tongue is a dry sack of cotton melded to the roof of her mouth, lethargic. Her chest feels tight and warm as if someone is sitting on top of it. Her eyes blink open despite the white glare and she looks around. Her body moves faster than her thoughts. She's already trying to move her arm before she's assessed anything and metal clanks against plastic. 

"What?" Her throat is dry, but she can't stop the question. Her arm is hooked up to an IV dripping some clear liquid. Her bicep and the crease of her elbow is trampled with dark bruises that are barely faded. Her head hurts, her eyes sting, and she's really hungry. It takes her a minute to put all of the pieces together. But she soon assesses the blinding whiteness of the walls paired with ugly green curtains from the 70's, the stench of nothing spiked with chlorine, and the looming depression laced with anxiety. 

Hospitals really aren't her thing. She's been in and out of them for most of her life and she knows the innerworkings well. She just happens to hate them, which is extremely inconvenient seeing as she can never away from them for long. Doctors have been telling her all her life that she has a mild case and she should live a long, happy life without too many complications. All Tahj knows is that she bleeds and bruises all the same so scraping up some story to keep her from falling into depression is useless.

 

If there is one thing that Tahj can't stand with every fiber of her being, it is being pitied. She hates being tied up, tied down, and strung out. In retrospect, it's her fault that she's like this. If she actually ever listened to Dr. Shah when she says that Tahj should inform her of any bleeds, she probably wouldn't be in this position. However, regardless of how crappy it feels to be in a hospital and hooked up to machines, she can't help but wonder if it is a blessing in disguise. The only thing she can remember is her mother smelling like linens fresh out of the wash and being so soft and comfortable that Tahj almost wanted to sleep; almost being the keyword as her mother is most often what she fears most about actually falling asleep. 

She thinks about doing things for Bennett and her dad before asking herself the question she had asked Bennett before: what about herself? If her bruised leg is any indication, then Tahj doing things for herself is long overdue. Sure, her being like this in the first place is a mixture of a biological gene she couldn't avoid along with her own dumb stubbornness. And, yeah, she can be negligent toward her own body for the sake of her own little pride. Maybe she is selfish. Maybe she is too busy in her own head to really try to think from someone else's perspective. But, as a human, she has some right to that. And when she actually considers it, Bennett is being a tad selfish asking Tahj to come to terms with something he's had years to accept in just a few days. Yes, he did ask her multiple times if she wanted to go back to Nathaniel's. Yes, it was Tahj who refused. But, it wasn't exactly fair the way everything in his face and voice said that he just wanted the conflict and tension to be over, making Tahj feel silently obligated to refuse and just obligated in general.

So maybe selflessness is just an idealistic comfort, as well as other things like unconditional forgiveness, and Tahj isn't one of the lucky ones, but she has a right to some things. 

She is pouring over this when she hears feet coming down the hall and tenses for some reason. It's only then that she looks to her left at the empty chairs, one of them occupied by a grey purse and another one by a light jacket. She panics slightly and wonders if she should pretend to still be out, and then she wonders just as quickly how that doesn't make any sense and dismisses the idea. It's not that she's a superhero and can discern footsteps. She just has an inkling of a feeling that it's going to get awkward very soon and she might regret not passing out for a second time. As if someone is set on proving her right, her mother walks in the room on the heels of Dr. Shah and Bennett behind her. She doesn't need to ask to be able to figure that her dad is at work. That's a whole can of something she isn't ready to to open yet and she thanks whoever she needs to for that. 

"You're awake," is Dr. Shah's opening line. She is making that face that means she's getting ready to switch into reproach mode. It's the classic mom look, which feels even weirder today because her actual mother is here, and for some reason the dynamics are taking a strange, uncomfortable turn. 

"What happened?" Tahj asks. She knows somewhat what happened on her end. She's really asking what happened from the medical side.

"You were bleeding behind your knee, for a little while it seems. Your body went into shock from the pressure. That's why you passed out," Dr. Shah explains. "Do you want to tell me why you didn't tell anyone like I always tell you to?" 

Tahj bites her lip. "Would you believe me if I said that I didn't know?"

Dr. Shah cocks her head with a condescending grin. "No?"

"I don't know." She shrugs. 

"Okay, let's get you sitting up, and thinking." Dr. Shah moves forward to lend a helping hand when Tahj sits up.

"You know, that sounded a little sarcastic," Tahj says in a pointedly obvious tone.

"Oh, really? I didn't realize." Dr. Shah says with a grin pulling at her lips. "Well, now that we're all vertical and well, would you mind telling me what happened?" 

"I saw it a while ago," she begins.

"Yes, and then you didn't tell anyone." Dr. Shah sighs. "That's the part I'm trying to wrap my head around."

Tahj smiles guiltily. "I will. Next time. Promise."

"Somehow, I still have my doubts. But, there's no use in telling the future." 

"Is she going to be okay?" Her mother asks. Tahj looks over at her after almost forgetting she was there in the first place. It could just be because Tahj is sensitive to everything, light, sound, but she thinks she sees something flash across Dr. Shah's wide, dark eyes. It could be nothing. Or, it could be that Dr. Shah is as bewildered as Tahj feels. She keeps her composure, though, smiles and all.

"She'll be fine, Mrs. Young."

"Othelia is fine," her mother says.

"Okay, well, she's going to be just fine, Othelia. We were able to get the bleeding under control. We gave her a quick transfusion to replace the iron and have been feeding her nutrients. Not much else happened since you were waiting."

"That's good. Thank you."

"All in a day's work," Dr. Shah says, tipping an imaginary hat. "I'll give you all your time then. Othelia. Bennett. Tahj."

Dr. Shah takes her leave and slides the plexiglass door closed on her way out. When she's gone Tahj can feel a lump attaching itself to the inside of her throat and swelling immediately. This is another nightmare. Her mother is standing here looking expectant while Benett just looks sad and a little broken. Her dad is absent as usual, but it seems meaningful this time. This bizarre, disjointed family reunion of sorts lacks all of the warmth and happiness it needs; the only emotions present are the uncomfortable kind. The kind that makes her wish she had never wondered what it was like to have a mom. She must have been selfish again and now this is her punishment. 

"How do you feel?" Bennett sits on the end of the bed, patting Tahj's leg through the thin, papery sheet. 

"Fine," Tahj says. "Winded. But, I mean, I passed out so..."

"Sweetie, I'm sorry. I should have-"

"It's okay," Tahj says, shaking her head. "I'm sorry about what I said the other day. That was out of line."

Her mother's eyes light up just the tiniest bit and a smile appears that seems just as worn as it does relieved. Tahj refuses to let it impact her emotions. But, as it has a history of doing, her body ignores her wishes and goes on ahead to betray her. She moves forward against all of the alarms going off in Tahj's head that short circuit when her hands reaches for Tahj's, holding it lightly and smiling. 

"We're all going to sit down and talk, okay? The four of us. We're going to communicate and move past this. Alright?" 

Tahj gathers her will and nods. She isn't ready. She'll never be. be But that's what sucks about life, it doesn't take personal circumstances into consideration; it happens anyway. Tahj can't help but dread the near future. This is life happening. It's strange to think how a comfortable lie is sometimes preferred over the truth. Tahj thinks as she stares up at her mother that she is her comfortable lie. She lived believing that her mother was their common enemy. As long as she stayed far away they would live happily. Tahj realizes now that she wasn't living happily. She was barely living at all. So, her mother possibly isn't God's curse to humanity, but a gift sent to pop her sheltered bubble and allow reality to leak in.

And it does.

The reality is that her comfortable lie is staring her straight in the eyes and daring to be unveiled. Soon it will be, at some bizarre family meeting like a sick parody of every sitcom ever. Her dad as the abusive head, her brother as the estranged son, Tahj as the reclusive daughter without a proper place in the world, and her mother at the center as the runaway bride come back again to wreak whatever havoc she can before, what, fleeing? Will she leave again?

Cue the funky pop music and title sequence. 

It might not be as surprising a the first time, but it definitely will hurt twice as much. Tahj hadn't remembered much about her mother. Her nightmares were always a hollow echo of the apparition she once knew. Scary, but never real enough for her to place anything more than a shadow, a thin memory in black and white and red.

But, her disappearance a second time will burn deeper into Tahj than she thinks she'll be able to handle. According to her mother, the first time was a necessity. The second time will be a choice and a luxury. Tahj is tired of the lies and the leaving. She is tired overall. If one more person leaves for whatever reason she is going to lose her mind with no hope left. Even if it's for her sanity which she has been holding onto whispers of for the last ten plus years, she takes the hand her mother outstretches and clutches it for dear life.

This is for her sanity.

This is for her hope.

This is for her.

Period.

***  
Just as her mother had promised, they do have a family meeting. Tahj tries not to scratch her neck out of worry as she sits on the farthest end of the couch from her mother, with Bennet between and her dad diagonally left to them in his tattered recliner. His face is harder than she ever remembers it being. 

"Let's get this on," he says. Tahj can't agree more, but she's not prepared when he looks directly at her after that. "Babygirl, I'm sorry." 

"Why are you apologizing to me?" Tahj shakes her head in confusion. "You should-"

"I'm apologizing to you," he breathes unsteadily, "because you grew up hating your mom because I was never honest with you. We all have moments we aren't proud of. I've had my share, no doubt about it. That day I had been in a foul mood since the morning. I hadn't slept in two days because of work, I was drinking, and I lost my mind. Everything happened the way it did and we couldn't overlook it. We tried for a few days. I apologized. She forgave me, but I couldn't forgive myself. Your mom didn't run. We agreed on it after talking for a little. Decided it would be best if she left without a fuss and came back whenever she was ready. If she wanted, that was. I never held anything against. I didn't even have the right to. And I hope you won't punish her for something I did wrong."

Tahj feels like she has to say something important because everyone is looking at her. Be it out of the corner of their eye or directly, they are. She doesn't know what will be momentous enough to share that would warrant the attention she is loathing at the moment, so she just says what comes to mind first, looking at no one in particular.

"I don't hold anything against her," Tahj says. "At least, not anymore. I'm mainly confused and frustrated , at myself. I want to be suddenly okay with all of this but I...I- "

"You don't have to suddenly be okay," Bennett puts one hand on her knee and grins up at her. "You can take your time. We're not going anywhere. Not anymore."

Of course Bennett has to leave for college soon and then Tahj will really be alone. She doesn't know what she'll do then, without her pillar. She doesn't bring it up, though. She just smiles back and nods the best she can. 

No one seems surprised when she excuses herself to her room after that. It's almost nine anyway. She has to pretend to sleep soon, maybe get a few hours, and then wake up at some indecent hour to stare unproductively at the ceiling until she just can't stand it any longer. That's her routine. She's had so much happen today that she needs some piece of normalcy to keep her functioning. 

Izziah throws a slight monkey wrench in her plan when she calls around ten to talk. Tahj doesn't mind, though. She's happy that this other piece of normalcy has fallen in place as well. She can't exactly remember their conversation when she wakes around four in the morning , but she's glad they had. Whatever it was.

The longer she sits in her bedroom the more she can feel the walls caving in around her body. This is the first time she's tasted the beige paint like chalk on her tongue and clogging up her nostrils. The last place she needs to be is here. Tahj grabs her phone and goes downstairs. Seeing as it's still early, about seven, the house is sleeping. Tahj revels in the silence and at her being able to grab a jacket, slip into some sneakers, and just go.

She smells the moisture in the air before she feels a drop hit her cheek. Despite the grey clouds clustered above and between the green canopy of trees, her legs don't quit walking. She pulls on her jacket and zips it up, throwing the hood on after. The park is still maybe five minutes away when feels more drops as they pick up from stray drippings to a steady, light downpour. By the time the rusty swing set and iron slide come into view her jacket is thoroughly damp and she's shaking from the chill that is slipping between the jacket's sleeves and her arms, stirring goosebumps in its wake.

Tahj sits on a swing. She kicks off and forgets, just for a moment, that the world is happening around her. Although she had originally come out here to think (about what?) nothing comes to mind. She could think about how college still haunts her dreams. The notion of it makes her want to crawl in a hole and die, as most things do. But, the thought of sitting in her room and doing nothing, being insignificant, for the rest of her life also makes her want to crawl in an even smaller hole and die. So, she's in what one would call a predicament. She could think about how she's never given much thought to her art. Sure, it was her light in sheer darkness and her oxygen when she couldn't breathe and her relief when she was hurting. But she's never seen it as her way out of anything. She is curious if she would be able to do it. She could think about how suddenly having a mom after years of not having one rips the ground from underneath her feet. She could think about so many things.

She doesn't though. She just swings like the childhood she wants to return to. Lightning streaks across muddled blue-grey. Rain washes away her inhibitions and doubt. Thunder is her brand new soundtrack to a better start. Everything about this moment brands itself all the way down to her bone. The cold, the rain, the bird that breaks out of its cage somewhere, and the wild, flapping sensation that buries itself in her chest and refuses to slow down.


	15. Epilogue

It might be loving someone so much that you could stare into their eyes and be sustained for the rest of your life. Maybe it's knowing that forgiveness is hard and that's what makes it worth doing. It may even be learning to accept yourself.

Yeah, something like that.


End file.
